Through A Dark Mirror
by aiwac
Summary: The following work is a project-in-progress that started at Toonzone - the comments refer to feedback and people at that site. The idea was to trace the emotional evolution of Terry McGinnis from Juvie up to and beyond the events in Epilogue. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

_A note on chronology: The timeline is relative (no dates), with the sign BB being the key "relative" date, representing the beginning of Batman Beyond in "Rebirth". For instance, BB + 15 is 15 years after the beginning of Batman Beyond, BB – 2 is two years before, and so on._

PART I: Just Another Dreg

Chapter 1: Welcome to Juvie Hall

_BB + 15, Bruce Wayne's manor; Terry's imagination_

Terry McGinnis took off the Batman mask and looked at his reflection in the grandfather clock. He hated what he saw. In anger and frustration he smashed it into smithereens. It wasn't the first time he felt this way…

_BB – 2, Court_

The trial was over quick. Terry had pleaded no contest and the judge was already overwhelmed with what seemed like a limitless number of youth and gang-related crimes. Compared to the many cases of manslaughter and assault committed by the self-declared "Jokerz", Terry's small-scale crimes were barely worth a second look. The judge sentenced him to three months and yelled "next". Terry was whisked out the door, catching one last glimpse of his grieving parents and a long list of kids his age ready to be tried. He wondered if he'd meet any of them where he was headed.

_BB – 2, Juvenile Hall_

The induction into Juvie was painless enough. After a change of clothing and a short uninspired speech by the warden, Terry started to get acquainted with the others already there. Just like on the outside, the hall was divided among various gangs, the Jokerz being the largest and most powerful. Still, Terry had a reputation as a tough fighter and had been part of Big Time's gang, so he was treated with respect. Only a few Jokerz tried to mix it up with him, and after he beat them, Terry was usually left alone.

There were others, too. They didn't belong to any particular gang or group. Some of them were hard-core sociopaths, the kind you'd expect to become serial killers or at least lifers once they became adults. Some of them reminded Terry of Sean Miller, a seriously disturbed classmate whom he'd fought on many an occasion.

The other inmates left the sociopaths alone for obvious reasons, but not the "fish", as they called them. These were the people who had nothing to protect them – a gang affiliation, a criminal reputation or mental insanity. They were runaways and petty thieves, kids who pulled a stunt too many or teenage rebels who went overboard and destroyed property. You could tell them by their hunted, fearful expression. They were the lowest on the food chain, either servants of gangs or victims of their random terror. Already on the first day, Terry saw one beaten up for not bringing a gang leader's lunch to him on the other side of the mess hall. Rumor had it others were treated worse; some just disappeared.

Terry didn't want to think about them or anyone else. He didn't want to think about his divorced parents, sitting at court, too ashamed to look at him. He didn't want to think about his friend Charlie "Big Time", serving a three-year prison term, while he got three months simply for being underage. Most of all, he didn't want to think about what he had done or why he was here. The past year had seemed like a whirlwind, starting with Mom and Dad breaking up, starting fights and roughing people up, to Charlie and the spree of B&Es.

Terry just wanted to get through the three months as quickly and as painlessly as possible. As he entered his cell and prepared to go to sleep, he got a glimpse of himself in the break-proof mirror on the wall. He quickly looked away, preferring sleep to any kind of self-reflection.

PART I: Just another Dreg

Chapter 2: Consequences

_BB – 2, Juvenile Hall, Terry's cell, 1 month into his sentence_

Terry sat on the hard bunk with his head in his hands, silently berating himself:

"Slag it! Three months. All you had to do was lay low and keep out of trouble for three damn months and everything would have been fine. Why did you have to get involved?"

_BB – 2, Juvenile Hall, Exercise Yard, Earlier that day_

Terry was pumping weights when the familiar sound of laughing Jokerz and the cracking bones of some poor fish broke his concentration. Up until now, he had been able to mind his own business, but for some reason he couldn't anymore.

Back on the outside, Terry could always run or hide from trouble, ignore the damage he did and move on. Besides, he'd never really hurt anyone. Charlie was always calling him "Tiny Terry" for thinking small time, but the truth was Terry didn't see himself as a potential hard criminal.

Terry was just an "angry kid" lashing out at the unfair world that allowed his parents to get divorced. Besides, it was also a lot of fun. The illegal cycling races and stunts on abandoned roads and against traffic, the thrill of street fights and destroying and stealing property; it gave him a real rush of excitement. It didn't take much for Charlie to bring him along for the botched heist. But he never stopped to think about any of it.

There was nowhere to avoid thinking about what was happening in the yard. The fish, no - the kid, was pleading for someone, anyone to intervene and end his suffering. "Someone…please…stop" was all he could articulate. Terry didn't know why, but he felt the plea was directed at him. Terry swore under his breath as he lay down the barbell, "Slag it! Why me? Isn't there anyone else?" He already knew the answer to the latter.

"Lay off him, dregs!", Terry yelled as he fought his way through the ring of Jokerz and shielded the kid.

"Aw, come on, McGinnis! We're just showing him a good time. Why do you have to go and spoil our fun?" asked one of the Jokerz.

"Yeah, unless you want to join h…unh"

The second Jokerz member hit the floor writhing in pain from Terry's right hook before he could finish his sentence. Soon two more were down. The other Jokerz recovered from their initial shock and were about to pile up on Terry when a low but commanding voice yelled "Leave them alone". As if by magic the Jokerz broke away from Terry with a fear he had never seen before in a gang.

Terry looked to see who it was that got the Jokerz to back off and cringed immediately. It wasn't one of the guards. It was Jokerz member Billy "Mad Dog" Madigan, a guy who lived up to his nickname and then some. Terry and the kid he was protecting had just been "rescued" by the worst sociopath in Juvie, maybe all of Gotham.

Things were getting better by the minute. So much for laying low.

PART I: Just Another Dreg

Chapter 3: A Heart-to-Heart

_BB – 2, Juvie Hall, Terry's Cell, 10 minutes before lights out_

There was a saying in Juvie - you don't kick a guy when he's down, you crush him. Terry couldn't think of a better description of what the powers that be had done to him today…

_BB – 2, Juvie Hall, Visitor's Meeting Room_

"Hi, Mom", Terry said in a sheepish, embarrassed tone.

"Hello, Terry", Mary replied.

The look on Mary McGinnis' face was a combination of deep disappointment mixed with concern.

"I heard about your latest brawl with a whole gang of Jokerz", Mary said sternly, "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

"Mom, it's not like that. This was different."

"Really, how is this different from all the other times you've got into fights?"

"Mom, please listen to me"

"This better be good"

"Mom, you don't know what it's like down here."

"Really? Enlighten me", Mary interrupted, getting more impatient.

"Not everybody here's a tough guy. Some are just regular kids down on their luck who made stupid mistakes. They're the regular punching bags and cutting boards of the gangs who run the hall. Some of them end up dead. If I hadn't butted in two days ago, the kid the Jokerz were using as their piñata would have been killed."

"And what all the other fights I've been hearing about?"

"Hey, they attacked ME. I had to defend myself. It's a jungle in here, Mom"

Mary sighed. Even if what he said was true, it was still clear that Terry hadn't changed at all. He was still the same hot-tempered teenager, and Mary couldn't handle it anymore.

"Terry, I've been talking to your father regarding custody, and we've decided that it's best if you move in with him"

"What about Matt?"

"He stays with me. You're a bad influence on your brother, Terry. I won't let him grow up to be like you"

The blow came out of nowhere, hitting Terry in the gut harder than any kick he'd endured back on the outside. He would have preferred to be beaten up by every lowlife in the hall than hear what he just did. Suddenly feeling weak, Terry softened his tone considerably and pleaded with her:

"Mom…please, don't. I can change. Please don't break us up. Give me a second chance". Terry was on the verge of tears. It was hard to believe just a minute ago he had been so combative.

"Terry, I've given you plenty of second chances. You broke your promises to stay out of trouble almost as soon as you made them. I can't deal with it anymore. Maybe your father will have more success with you when you get out"

"Mom, please…"

"I'm sorry, Terry, but that's how it's going to be. It's past time you took a look at yourself and what you've become. Then maybe you'll understand."

There wasn't anything left to say. Terry got up and left the Visitor's Room escorted by one of the guards. He was taken directly to the exercise yard, where he found himself face to face with the Mad Dog and a dozen other Jokerz.

You don't kick the guy, you crush him. That was the motto of Juvie.

PART I: Just Another Dreg

Chapter 4: Reckoning

_BB – 2, Exercise Yard_

"Mad Dog" Madigan. Even Charlie, an adult and as fearless as they come, spoke about him in a hushed, fearful tone. All of the Jokerz had a destructive streak, but they were mostly just violent hooligans. Mad Dog was a different story. Though he'd never been caught for anything serious, there were persistent rumors; tales of mutilated bodies, of innocent people being tortured psychologically and physically. All Jokerz padded their life stories with exaggerated exploits of cruelty – but Madigan was the only one you'd believe capable of actually doing any of his rumored deeds.

A storm erupted outside, a violent turbulence mimicking what Terry felt inside. So this is how it ends, Terry thought, rejected by my own mother to be carved up by the Mad Dog and his group of thugs. Well, I'm not going to go down quietly, he thought. Terry took up an aggressive fighting stance and defiantly taunted the Jokerz surrounding him, "You want me, dregs, come get me!"

"Easy, McGinnis!", cautioned Mad Dog, "We're not here to kill you, fun though that might be. I just want to have a little chat."

"What could I possibly want to discuss with a whack job like you, Mad Dog?"

"You're not the least bit curious as to why I let you live two days ago?"

"No. The less I know about what goes on in that sick mind of yours, the better"

Terry couldn't believe how gutsy he was being with a known psychopath, but he figured showing weakness was an even worse option. Letting Mad Dog know how vulnerable he felt at the moment was a recipe for disaster.

"Well, I'll tell you anyway, since I'm in such a good mood. I let you live because I think you're better off being one of us than just another victim of ours. Letting a talented kid like you end up in the morgue seems like such a waste."

Terry let his guard down a little. "I'd say you're more than a few cards short of a full deck. I'm nothing like you, and the scars on your buddies here are exhibits A-D", Terry said with a sardonic smile.

"On the contrary, McGinnis, it proves just how much potential you've got. Sure you've only done small time stunts up until now, but give it time. We all started from the bottom. Don't sell yourself short."

The confident tone with which Madigan said those words touched a deeply buried nerve, which Mom had started to scratch at in the Visitor's Room. _You're one of us, now. Even your Mom can't handle you anymore. _Terry blocked it out as quickly as possible.

Trying to maintain what was left of his cocky demeanor, he retorted, "Last I checked I stopped you guys from killing a kid. I'd say saving someone's life is a no-no on a Jokerz' resume."

Mad Dog just smiled and then let out a laugh that chilled him to the core. Soon the other Jokerz joined in. Terry felt himself tense up. His defenses were gone and in their stead came a burning anger.

"What's so funny?", Terry growled through clenched teeth.

"Come on, McGinnis! You really think trying to save one fish suddenly changes what you are? Where was that conscience of yours when you went around terrorizing people and nearly running them off the road? How many times did you turn a blind eye to what was going on right here every day you were pumping weights? You can't suddenly make that go away with that stunt you pulled two days ago."

"Maybe I made some mistakes", Terry said, trying to restrain himself, "but I'm not you. I don't carve people up for kicks. You're right; I screwed up before letting you punks have fun with helpless kids. From now on, fish are off limits when I'm around."

"You know what, McGinnis?", Mad Dog said between laughs, "I'll even do you a favor. As long as you're here, less than two months, by the way, I'll even help you enforce that rule. As soon as you're gone, though, the fun returns."

"Why would you do that?"

"So you can see the pointlessness of your heroics. We owned this hall before you came, and we'll still own it after you leave"

"And you'll still be behind bars", Terry retorted.

The collective laugh of Mad Dog and the Jokerz now reached a fever pitch. Unable to control himself anymore, Terry dealt Mad Dog hard blows to the face and stomach and knocked him to the ground. For some reason, though, Mad Dog wasn't resisting, and the other Jokerz held back.

Still laughing in spite of the blood running from his wounds, Mad Dog continued:

"You know it isn't better on the outside. We own Gotham, McGinnis. There are almost 10,000 guys in our gang alone. That's not including other gangs and 'independent' guys such as yourself…"

Before he could continue, Terry pinned Mad Dog and slugged him again. "I'm not like you! I'll never be like you!", he yelled angrily.

"Keep telling yourself that, McGinnis."

Terry hit him again, but Mad Dog just shrugged it off as though he was being hit with a feather. Then he kicked Terry back across the room. Wiping the blood stream off his face, he tried to make Terry see reason,

"You know, it's been fun up until now, but it's time you faced reality, McGinnis. Nobody cares. People are too scared and they don't want to get involved. Not in the hall, not outside. The cops are overwhelmed. They barely bother to show up for long in most parts of town. The only other guy who might have been able to do something about us hasn't shown himself in almost 20 years. Why don't you play it smart and join the winning side?"

"Never"

"What a shame. You could have been a great Joker. Maybe your little brother will be smarter than y…"

Terry let loose with every bit of fury he could muster. "Leave! Matt! Alone!" Before he knew it, Mad Dog was knocked down underneath the barbells. Terry was holding one of the weights above his head, ready to smash in Madigan's skull.

Instead of pleading for his life, Mad Dog just smiled, "I knew you had potential".

Suddenly aware of what he was about to do, Terry froze, horrified. Then he threw the weight across the room as hard as he could. As the guards finally pulled Terry and Mad Dog away from each other, Terry tried to have the last word:

"I'll never be like you"

Mad Dog simply replied, "Give it time. You'll come round"

_BB – 2, Terry's cell, 5 minutes before lights out_

Terry slowly lifted his head from his hands to go to sleep, when he locked eyes with his reflection in the break-proof mirror. Try though he might, he couldn't look away. Not any more. He couldn't run away from seeing what he'd become, what he'd done to himself. What he was now.

A worthless dreg. A punk. A violent, uncontrollable teenager whose own mother couldn't handle him. A bad influence on his brother. A guy Mad Dog saw as a potential protégé. The sudden realization of all he had tried to ignore this past year now washed over him like an uncontrollable flood.

With the strength he had left, he repeatedly flailed at the mirror and the image it bore, to no avail. He punched it until his knuckles bled, but it was no use. Falling to the floor, Terry wept uncontrollably, his tears washing away the blood from his hands.

There was nowhere to run or hide from this. Even violence couldn't get Terry out of it. Never before had Terry McGinnis felt so worthless, so helpless, so…alone.

Lights out.

END: PART I: Just Another Dreg


	2. Chapter 2

PART II: A Beginning, and an End

Chapter 1: The True Test of Friendship

_BB – 2, Juvie Hall, A Month and a Half Into Terry's Sentence_

Three months. It was supposed to be a breeze, and for a month or so, it was. Now, ever since that day with Mom and the Mad Dog, every day, every hour, every minute seemed like an agonizing eternity. Seeing the smirks on the faces of Mad Dog and his buddies was bad enough. What really hurt was the faces of the fish, no – the kids, who he knew were only getting a temporary reprieve. There would be no one to defend them when he left.

Even if he wanted to ignore them, Terry had nothing else he could focus on that would make him feel any better. He sure as hell wasn't looking forward to getting out. Other kids waited for the end impatiently, some to try to make a new life; others, like Madigan, to continue creating chaos and ruining lives. For Terry, every day that passed meant that the reality of his being separated from his mother and brother on the outside was coming closer to its realization.

He had to talk to someone. If he kept to himself any longer he'd go insane. He didn't want to talk to either of his parents; the wounds were too fresh. Matt was far too young. That left only one other person.

_BB – 2, Computer Room, Juvie Hall_

Prisoners were allowed monitored e-mails to and from prison, and Terry figured it was the most discreet way to go about getting in touch. As he sat in front of the computer, he realized that he didn't really have a clear idea of what he wanted to say. He just needed to know there was someone out there, someone who'd listen. Someone who'd give him the second chance denied him just two weeks ago.

Much like that night when he let himself go, Terry poured his heart out, detailing all that had gone on in the past 6 weeks. His mother's rejection of him, Mad Dog, his desperation to somehow change and become a better, worthwhile person. How he wanted to be able to see his reflection and not be disgusted by it.

As he clicked "send", he felt a mix of relief and trepidation. If the person on the receiving end didn't answer his plea, he didn't know what he would do.

_BB – 2, Tan House, Nighttime_

Dana Tan went through her long list of e-mails with the usual mixture of boredom and mild amusement. There was the usual gossip about relationships in the high school, as well as an invite from Howard Groote to a party and one from Chelsea to join her for a night on the town. Then she came across an e-mail addressed from the Gotham Midtown Juvenile Hall, prisoner 278938. Terry McGinnis.

Dana was taken aback, not sure how to react. She hadn't seen Terry since he was arrested. She thought about going to the trial, but her father forbade it. Besides, Dana had long since felt that she had lost Terry to Charlie "Big Time" and the rest of those creeps.

A wellspring of memories came to her - some good, some bad. Dana had been a friend of Terry's for a number of years now, the two of them kids who didn't quite fit in with the self-appointed elites of the school. She had even begun to notice him in a different way, and the two of them started to become an item.

Then his parents started to get divorced and everything went downhill real fast. At first, Dana forgave his lashing out and ever-worsening temper. She even defended him to her parents on more than one occasion. All too soon, though, she saw that Terry was slipping away from her, shutting her and the rest of the world out.

Helplessly she watched as Terry got mixed up with Charlie Bigelow, a smooth-talking thug who somehow convinced Terry to go along with him. Terry may have thought they were both "angry kids", but Dana saw that there was something much more menacing about Charlie. By the time he was arrested, she was even partially relieved that he was caught for breaking and entering and not something worse.

Now Terry was writing to her. Why? He still had family, even if they broke up. She hadn't even been at the trial. Still, Dana decided to look at the letter, if only out of curiosity. What she read changed her view almost 180 degrees. As she finished reading, she felt a powerful combination of shock and concern. Terry had just gone through hell and back, and this letter was clearly a last, desperate cry for help.

Dana now realized that she was the only one left in the world Terry felt he could talk to. On the one hand, it was heartbreaking to see Terry feel so alone. On the other hand, she now realized just how much she meant to him, even after having gone through so much. Maybe, just maybe, the Terry McGinnis she knew and had begun to care for was coming back.

Having lost all hope before, Dana decided not to let this chance slip away. She wrote back, ending her reply with the following:

**Please don't give up. I'm here for you, even if no-one else is. Write to me as much as you want.**

As Dana clicked send, one thought was on her mind: Please, don't let it be too late.

_BB – 2, Computer Room, Juvie Hall_

Terry saw the reply.

He now felt an emotion he hadn't known in almost a year.

Hope.

Part II: A Beginning, and an End

Chapter 2: Adjusting

_BB – 2, Juvie Hall_

The daily correspondence with Dana helped keep Terry sane the last weeks of his sentence. It kept his mind off of Mad Dog and the fish. It also helped him forget about what was waiting for him when his time was up.

Dana sometimes tried to bring up the subject of his moving in with his father, but Terry made it clear he didn't want to write about it, so she let the subject drop. Maybe things will get better once he's out, she thought. One step at a time.

On his final day, Terry found a "farewell" card at his usual eating spot in the mess hall. It was signed by Mad Dog. Inside it said "see you again soon" with a big smiley face. Terry crumpled it up and threw it in the trash without a second thought. _No, you won't_, Terry thought angrily.

Terry still couldn't help but think about all the kids he was leaving behind, now helpless against the whims of monsters like the Mad Dog. He even wondered what had happened to the kid he had defended two months ago. "God, two months?", Terry thought as he shook his head. It felt like two lifetimes. So much had changed since he'd entered the hall three months ago.

Terry collected his belongings from the property clerk and exited the last gate. If he never saw the inside of this building again, it would be too soon. As he left the building, he saw his father, waiting for him next to an open taxi car door. He quickly shifted his focus to the ground and mumbled "Hello, Dad" as he got in the car. "Hello, Terry", Warren replied.

The entire ride back, roughly an hour and a half due to heavy traffic, Terry and Warren sat in silence. Terry looked outside the window the whole time, while Warren eyed Terry with concern. Neither of them really knew what to say to each other. Finally, the taxi parked at Warren's apartment. Warren paid the cabbie and tried to help Terry with his things but Terry refused his help angrily.

The apartment was a small two-bedroom affair on the ground floor, not counting the flight of stairs Terry insisted on climbing himself with his belongings. As they entered the apartment, Warren tried to break the silence,

"This is your room", he said warmly as he turned on the light, "I had the rest of your belongings moved while you were away, and organized them myself. I hope you like it".

Terry threw his bags on the floor and fell face-first on to the bed, refusing to reply.

"Terry, I know this is hard, but your mother and I believe this is for the best…"

"GO AWAY!", Terry yelled into the pillow.

"Terry, I…", Warren started then stopped himself. He turned out the light and closed the door. Give it time, he thought.

Behind the door, Terry felt the sting of rejection just as strongly as that day he had met Mom in the Visitor's room. It hurt so much.

_BB – 2, Rhino's, The Next Day_

"Terry, you've barely touched your chili"

No answer.

"Terry, the restaurant's about to blow up"

Still no response.

"Terry, aren't you going to tell me what's wrong? You communicated more when you were in Juvie"

Still getting no reply, Dana became exasperated,

"McGinnis, your Dad's a good guy. He just wants what's best for you"

"Yeah, keeping me away from my own brother because I'm a 'bad influence' is a great way of showing how much he cares. Did you know he moved all of my stuff to his apartment while I was on the inside? God forbid I should even get to say goodbye to Mom or to Matt. You'd think I was contagious"

"Terry, he was just trying to be helpful. Maybe you should give him the benefit of the doubt"

"Why? Neither he or Mom were willing to do that with me"

Dana was becoming frustrated,

"Terry, if they really gave up on you completely, they could have farmed you off to one of those state-run "reform schools"'

"What's the difference?", Terry snorted.

"The 'difference' is that your father is willing to try. I know a lot of kids whose parents gave up on them, and they didn't cause anywhere near as much trouble as you did. You **owe** it to him to give him a second chance"

"I don't owe him anything"

"Well, you owe **me**. I opened myself up to you and let you back in to my life even though you hurt me very badly. You're not the only one who's gone through hell."

Terry relented a little, softening his expression and demeanor. Dana continued,

"Back when you were in Juvie, you told me that you wanted to change. You said you wanted to become a better person, that all you needed was a second chance. I'm giving you that chance, Terry, and if you want to really prove you've changed, you'll do the same for your father."

As Dana got up to leave, Terry started,

"Dana…I…I'm sorry. You're right. I don't want to lose you. I already lost my Mom and Matt."

"If you keep it up, you'll lose me and your Dad as well"

"No", Terry interjected, "I don't want that. I'll…I'll try. I guess I do owe him that much"

Dana let a little smile creep through, and breathed a sigh of relief. One step at a time.

"Come on, Dana. Let's go to the top of Gotham Towers. It's been a while since we saw the whole city, just the two of us"

"I was wondering when you were going to take me back there", Dana said with a coy smile.

_BB – 2, Warren McGinnis' Apartment, 12:00 AM_

"Dad?"

"Hi, Terry. How was your date with Dana? You patch things up?"

"We're OK. Listen, Dad, I…I'm sorry about how I acted before. Can we start over again?"

Warren smiled. "Sure, Terry, sure", Warren said as he hugged his son as tightly as he could.

Terry hugged back just as tightly.

PART II: A Beginning, and an End

Chapter 3: Revelations

_BB – 1, Warren McGinnis' Apartment, Four Months Since Terry's Release_

Terry knew he had made Dana a promise to give his father a second chance, but it was getting more and more difficult. Warren was always occupied with his job in the research department at Wayne-Powers. Terry, on the other hand, was always going out to meet with his friends. Arguments about priorities such as schoolwork and chores over clubbing and dates were getting ever more frequent.

Worse, still, was the fact that Terry's temper was starting to get worse again. Terry thought he had become resigned to the fact that he was living with Warren and cut off from Matt and Mom, but he soon realized that wasn't the case. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he had always held out hope that the present situation was temporary, that eventually he'd be back with his mother and brother. As the weeks went by and turned into months, Terry finally came to realize that there was no hope for that, and he often took it out on his father.

It went deeper than that, though. The scars Terry had accrued in the Hall were not disappearing but becoming ever more powerful. For one thing, he was beginning to see that Mad Dog was right about one thing. Things weren't any better on the outside. Everywhere the strong preyed upon the weak, whether it was Jokerz or other gangs robbing and assaulting citizens on the streets and on public transport or bullies beating up smaller kids at school. He was also right that everyone tried not to get involved. It was like Terry was the only one who actually saw the victim.

Every time he saw a victim, he was reminded of the fish he'd left behind. The truth was he had never really forgotten about the kids he had taken under his protection at Juvie. He didn't have the courage to call the Hall administration to ask about how they were doing, and there was nothing in the news about it. Kids like them didn't matter, anyway, even if they mattered to Terry. The anxiety was really getting to him, along with everything else.

Every time Terry saw a Joker or a bully have their way, he wanted to intervene. Only his promise to Dana, and to himself, to stay out of trouble kept him from butting in. Still, every day he saw such incidents it became harder and harder to hold back. It wasn't just that the victims reminded him of the fish he'd defended back in the hall. He also saw in the victimizers a reflection of himself, a specter of what he had been; of what he could have become. Terry may have angrily brushed off Mad Dog's assertion that they were both the same, but deep down he feared he might be right.

The tension and pain of watching such incidents gnawed at him daily. He didn't know how much longer he'd be able to keep it up, promises notwithstanding.

_BB – 1, Warren McGinnis' Apartment_

"Terry, you have a phone call"

"Hello?"

"Terry McGinnis?"

"Yeah"

"This is Guard Trenton. Remember me?"

Sure he did. He was one of the guards who pulled Terry and Mad Dog apart that day. This can't be good.

"What is it?"

"It's about that kid you defended in the hall, Tom Brady?"

Terry was so caught up with events in Juvie, he hadn't even managed to get the kid's name. Not that that mattered, now. Terry felt a paralyzing fear creep over him, and his hand holding the phone shook uncontrollably. For four months, he had been in a state of denial, and now that was about to collapse. He wanted to hang up right then and there. Instead he just held the phone to his ear, but no words came from his mouth.

"Terry, are you there?"

A barely audible "yes" was all he could manage.

"Well, Terry, he died last night. Internal injuries. He held out for quite a while, but the damage was too severe"

In his mind, he could see the Mad Dog laughing at him, his major act of self-sacrifice proving ultimately futile. All that was left was his own sense of worthlessness and self-loathing. There was no avoiding the next question. His defenses had been breached, anyway.

"What about the others?"

"What others?"

"The other fi…the other kids, those who aren't gang members or whack jobs."

"Same as before, really. Some get beat up, others end up like Tom"

The nonchalant way in which Trenton said those words made Terry furious. _That's how things are_, he seemed to say, _there's not much you can do about it._ No, they shouldn't, Terry thought angrily.

"And you're OK with that?", Terry asked, his heart racing with rage, "how come you didn't protect them?"

"That's not fair, McGinnis", Trenton said with frustration, "You know what it's like over here. We're understaffed and under equipped. It's hard enough to prevent riots and escapes, let alone stop all the fights that go on"

"If I did something, you guys sure as hell could have"

Terry didn't care whether Trenton was right or not. He needed to lash out at someone, to help dull the pain he was feeling.

"I understand you're upset"

"No, you don't. You couldn't possibly know"

Terry felt like slugging the guard long-distance. So Mad Dog was right all along, Terry felt, no-one cares. Not enough to do anything, anyway.

Trenton ignored the last remark and continued,

"The funeral will be at the County Graveyard at 10:00 AM. Brady didn't have any family, Terry. I figured that at least you could go and pay him his last respects, seeing as you risked your life to try to save him"

Terry didn't answer, and Trenton tried to console him,

"Look, McGinnis, for what it's worth, I think you did a brave thing trying to help him. I've been a guard for close to ten years, and it's not often I see someone willing to stand up for someone he hardly knows in the Hall"

When Terry didn't reply, Trenton finished, "I'm sorry, Terry". Trenton then hung up, and Terry exploded. He tossed the phone halfway across the room and punched the wall repeatedly. Warren came into the room and asked,

"Terry, what's going on?"

Holding the wall for support and still shaking with emotion, Terry replied, "The kid…Tom Brady…that I defended back in Juvie"

"You mean the one you defended against a gang of Jokerz? Mary told me about that. What happened to him?"

"He's dead, Dad"

"Terry, I…I don't know what to say"

Terry's father's mood changed from anger to deep concern. Warren McGinnis had never seen his son in such pain, so tormented. He knew Terry had had a rough time inside, but he never really understood how bad it really was until now.

Mary had always accused Warren of being emotionally distant, wrapped up in his work and unable to open up or understand other's feelings sufficiently. Lord knows, he tried to do the right thing, whether it was taking his kids on trips when he was still married or helping his ex-wife with money problems. Terry as he saw him now, on the other hand, was an entirely different challenge, one he was totally unprepared for.

Terry continued,

"It's my fault, Dad. Maybe if I'd butted in earlier, maybe if I stopped them from hurting kids as soon as I got in the hall, maybe…"

Warren tried his best to console him,

"Terry, you tried to do the right thing. I'm proud of you. But sometimes there isn't anything we can do. You can't keep blaming yourself for this. It's not your fault. You're not the one who beat Tom to death. The Jokerz did."

"It doesn't feel like there's a difference"

"Listen to me, Terry", Warren said as he put his arm on Terry's shoulder, "You tried. You risked your life to save someone when no-one else would…"

Terry drowned out the rest of the speech. He knew his Dad meant well, but now the entire world seemed empty, and he didn't want to be consoled. He couldn't stop blaming himself for what happened.

Warren finished his talk and let Terry be alone for a while. Terry felt like he was back in his cell, the day Mom rejected him and Mad Dog nearly turned him into a killer.

Once again, it felt like there was no way out.

_BB – 1, County Graveyard_

The funeral was a short affair. The priest gave a brief sermon and then the body was quickly buried. The only remaining evidence that Tom Brady had ever existed was a small marker.

Terry was the only mourner in attendance. He stood still throughout the ceremony, unable to speak. For hours afterward, he stood over the grave, guilt and sorrow flowing through him as strongly as the storm that raged the day he confronted the Mad Dog. He thought about Tom, about the fish. Most of all, he thought about what Mad Dog had said, about how nobody cares. How even he hadn't cared about all the people he had hurt – his parents, Dana, people whose property he destroyed - before he tried to help Tom. Now, even that didn't matter.  
_  
BB – 1, Gotham D Train Station_

Terry was lost in thought on the train platform when he saw a pair of Jokerz trying to rob a woman. The storm inside, so violent before, now turned into an intense focus. Terry finally realized what he needed to do. Rushing over, he wiped the floor with the two surprised Jokerz and helped the woman get away. After a few attempts at counter-attack, the Jokerz fled.

As he dusted off his funeral jacket and saw himself in the window of the train, Terry came to realize something:

He couldn't save Tom. There was nothing he could do to protect the kids he'd left behind. Maybe he couldn't stop this from happening everywhere.

But he was going to be damned if he let another innocent person get hurt while he stood by and didn't do everything possible to stop it.

He owed it to Tom and to all the other kids he'd tried to help. Most of all, he owed it to himself, if only to prove Mad Dog wrong once and for all.

His conscience, his soul, demanded no less.

PART II: A Beginning, and an End

Chapter 4: Father and Son

_BB – 1, Warren McGinnis' Apartment_

Warren McGinnis waited anxiously for Terry to come home. It had been hours since the funeral was scheduled to commence, and his son had not made any attempt to contact him. There was nothing he could do but wait, perhaps try to think about what had just transpired over the past few days.

Ever since Terry got the phone call the previous day, Warren had noticed a change in Terry. Perhaps it had started in Juvenile Hall, but it was far more perceptible now. There was an air of seriousness about him, a sense of maturity and focus he'd never seen before. He did not crack so much as one joke.

When Terry finally came back home, giving his father a terse "Hi, Dad" before going to his room, his son looked to him as though he'd just aged several years. Warren wasn't sure whether this was a good or bad development. On the one hand, this new found concern for others and feelings of remorse pointed to the former possibility. On the other hand, Terry had been getting more and more volatile even before the phone call, and his outburst after it was not encouraging. Tom's death might just drive him over the edge instead of bringing him back onto the straight and narrow.

_BB – 1, Warren McGinnis' Apartment, Four days after the funeral_

The last time Terry had spiraled downward, Warren had adopted a passive stance. He knew that his divorcing Mary was the main accelerant for Terry's fury, and he thought eventually Terry would run out of steam and eventually calm down. That clearly didn't work, so Warren decided to take a more direct approach.

Having made the necessary arrangements and connections, Warren arranged for his son to be taken out of regular school for an undetermined period of time. The official reason he gave was that Terry needed to catch up over a year's worth of schooling, and that only Warren could give him the time and attention needed to help him catch up. The real reason was that Warren wanted to try and actively guide Terry on to the right path from day one, instead of risking his making a repeat visit to Juvenile Hall. He'd clearly endured enough in there.

Terry wasn't sure how to react when Warren told him about his plan to teach Terry by himself. Before he learned about Tom, Terry might have thrown a fit, yelling at his father for controlling his life and constantly making decisions without so much as telling him beforehand.

Things were different now, though. Terry was still set in his determination to stop people from being hurt, but that didn't mean he had to burn his bridges with his father. Besides, he had suffered enough loss in the past half year. Between being cut off from Mom and Matt, and now the death of Tom, Terry felt the need to hold onto the people he had left more strongly than ever.

_BB – 1, Warren McGinnis' Apartment, Three Weeks Later_

The first few weeks of home-schooling didn't go too well. Terry found most of the material boring. Warren's attempt to get him interested in his own field – life sciences – was just as unsuccessful. Terry simply didn't care for things that were only in a book or on a text file, or outside of Gotham. As far as he was concerned, there was no need to learn things that had no real effect on his life.

Warren was getting frustrated. It wasn't as if Terry wasn't intellectually capable of learning anything. Back when he was still married to Mary, he got Terry to memorize the multiplication tables and Terry caught on remarkably quickly. He also memorized virtually everything that had to do with the superheroes of the time. He still remembered how he jumped at the chance to see The Grey Ghost Strikes back when he was 8. He also had quite a knack for anything mechanical, always taking things apart and putting them back together, often improving them in the process. Warren thought maybe he could try and steer him in that direction.

_BB – 1, Metropolis, World Technology Expo, A Week Later_

It was a godsend. Warren was invited to go with a group of Wayne-Powers research employees to the World Technology Expo set to take place in Metropolis and go on for a week and a half. Every company in the world would be there, showing the latest in every conceivable type of machine and technological advance. Here was the perfect opportunity to move Terry in a positive direction.

Terry came with his father not sure what to expect. He was still grieving over Tom, but the Expo sounded really cool, so he agreed to come as a son of a Wayne-Powers employee. When he came into the building housing the exhibits, he was blown away. He never saw anything comparable to this in school. It was like he'd just entered a different world, so different from the bleak reality back at Gotham. Terry made every effort to check out every booth, see every different type of gadget. He was like a kid in an enormous toy store.

The entire week and a half, Terry made sure he got up early so he could make the most of his time at the Expo. Every day he had new questions for the exhibitioners about their particular fields. He even attended the occasional lecture, quickly absorbing concepts and ideas that, but a week ago, had been completely foreign to him. He even managed to sneak a couple times into the 'restricted area' of the Expo, where companies, including Wayne-Powers, showed off the latest in military hardware and 'super-soldier' technology. It was simply an amazing experience.

Warren saw his son's fascination with the Expo with a combined mixture of pride and relief. Pride, because clearly Terry had it in him to follow in his footsteps, if in a field different than his own. Terry may not have shown much academic aptitude beforehand, but he was clearly a very quick study when he wanted to be. The relief was due to the fact that Terry was now on a path away from Juvie, away from thugs like that dreg Charlie Bigelow.

Let's hope this keeps up when we get home, Warren thought.

PART I: A Beginning, and an End

Chapter 5: Escalation

_BB – 1, Warren McGinnis' Apartment, Two Months after the Expo_

Warren McGinnis was very pleased. Even after they came home, Terry was still enthusiastically reading everything he could on technology. He quickly finished off all the relevant articles Warren had in his physical library and his digital collection of back issues of _Science _and _Technology Today_. Quite often Warren found himself peeling Terry away from the computer reading on-line articles so he could go to sleep before dawn.

Warren now felt the time had come to put Terry back into regular school. To be sure, Terry's progress was still uneven, being much more pronounced in areas he found interesting or relevant. Still, Warren felt it would be healthier for Terry to go back to being among kids his own age, especially in a context other than clubs.

Warren felt the only real option was to send Terry back to Hamilton High. He knew the education there wasn't the best, but felt he could pick up the slack with Terry after school. Besides, there were other considerations. Most of the people he knew were there, and Warren felt Terry would better adapt if he was in familiar company. A private school would be foreign territory to Terry. That was not to mention the fact that there was no chance a private school would accept a Juvenile Delinquent like Terry.

Having made the necessary arrangements, Warren sat back in his chair and hoped that this time, things would turn out OK.

_BB – 1, Gotham 578 Bus, Destination: Hamilton High_

Terry rode the bus to Hamilton High with mixed feelings. The past three months had been a real bonding experience with his father. It wasn't just the home-schooling, though Terry had surprised even himself with how quickly he absorbed material. He had gotten to really know his father, to learn just how much Warren was willing to invest of his time and effort to teach him. He felt like such a jerk for lashing out at him all those times. His father clearly cared for him, and Terry now very much reciprocated the feeling.

There was, however, one important matter that Terry had never revealed to Warren – the promise he had made the day of the funeral, three months ago. To be sure, Warren was aware that Terry felt guilt over the kids back at Juvie, and he tried to console him in between lessons. Aware of his son's still violent temper, he also tried to explain that he couldn't solve everything with his fists. It was no use, though. Warren's remarks went in one ear and out the other.

Unbeknownst to Warren, Terry had already been making good on his promise these last few months, especially when he traveled to and from his friends. Whenever he saw innocent people accosted and attacked, he immediately intervened, whether it was on the bus or the train, or in the streets. It was a simple matter to hide these things from his father. Terry was by now a very experienced street fighter and was almost always able to dodge blows and avoid injury. Even the few bruises he sustained were easy to hide. These things were never reported, either, so there was nothing to fear.

Now things were changing. Terry thought about what would happen if, no – when, he saw something similar at school. Intervening would quickly get him in trouble with the school administration and his father. But the other option, of not doing anything, had ceased to be such for months now. Stopping incidents like the one in Juvie over half a year ago were now second nature to him, something he did without even thinking. Besides, every time he even considered it, he found himself thrust back into Juvie, or at the funeral. All the painful memories and feelings of self-hatred would come flooding back, causing him a tremendous amount of anguish. It was if his promise had now become a part of him, an appendage no less natural and irremovable (at least not without excruciating pain) than an organ or a limb.

No, Terry thought to himself, there was no other option. Not any more.

_BB – 1, Hamilton High, Hallway, Two and a half weeks since Terry's return_

The first couple of days went by smoothly, almost remarkably so. Terry quickly found out which classes he had to go to and went. He even paid attention in the ones he found interesting. It felt good being back in "normal" company, even though much of the student body continued to eye him wearily because of his record. Before Terry thought it was annoying and even insulting. Now he thought it was something he could use – a tool of fear he could wield to deter bullies without even having to mix it up with them. Maybe his father wouldn't need to find out after all.

The next two weeks showed the merit of this approach. Whenever Terry approached or yelled out "leave them alone" in a menacing tone of voice, the bullies backed off as if by magic. No-one wanted to mess with a kid from Juvie, no matter how tough they thought they were. Then he showed up.

Nelson Nash was a top athlete transferred from another school, a self-absorbed jock that had a nasty habit of showing his own worth by tormenting smaller kids and pushing them around. He'd heard about Terry McGinnis and how he was protecting the little guy. Secretly, he was no less afraid of the guy than any of the other jocks and toughs in school. He did, however, have an image to protect, especially to his new-found buddies on the team, so he was determined not to let Terry get in the way of his fun.

Terry was walking to physics class when he saw Nash assault another kid for accidentally spilling coke on his jacket. Terry went into his usual menacing mode, walking slowly and yelling "leave him alone". This time, though, it didn't work, and Terry had no choice but to attack Nash. The two of them went at it for two minutes before they were seperated by a teacher who ordered them to go to their respective classes.

The whole way to class, Terry couldn't stop thinking about how much he was mad at this new guy Nash. It wasn't just that he fought him. It was that now that Nelson had fought him and held his own, if barely, other bullies would also cease to be afraid of him. Terry could see it in the eyes of all his spectators - the look of fear was completely absent. The deterrent effect of his days at Juvie was now irretrievably gone, and Terry was undoubtedly going to have to mix it up just as often as he did on the buses and trains to and from school.

There was no way to avoid Dad finding out now.

PART II: A Beginning, and an End

Chapter 6: Irreconcilable Differences

_BB – 1, Warren McGinnis' Office, Wayne-Powers, A Week Later_

Warren McGinnis was hard at work finishing a project when the phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Mr. McGinnis? This is Ray Gardner, the counselor at Hamilton High."

Warren tensed up a little. What reason could he have for calling?

"What can I do for you, Mr. Gardner?"

"Well, sir, your son Terry has been getting into quite a few fights at school. We've tried to be lenient up until now, him getting readjusted and all, but it's gotten way out of hand"

Warren was stunned. He spent months of home-schooling and lectures to try and get Terry back on track. Things seemed to be going so well. Yet it took his son less than a month to revert back to his old habits. Warren was deeply hurt by what he felt to be a betrayal on Terry's part. More than anger, he felt deeply disappointed in him.

"How long has this been going on?"

"Only during the past week, really. It's strange. For two weeks, he didn't get into any trouble, then suddenly he's getting into at least two altercations a day."

He lasted two weeks. Warren was at a loss for words. He had spent the better part of the year trying to help his son, and all that effort just went out the window. He didn't know what he was going to do now.

"Mr. McGinnis, are you still there?"

"Yes, I'm still here"

"I've scheduled a meeting with you and your son tomorrow at 11:00 AM, so we can try and sort this out. Can you make it?"

"Yes, I'll be there."

"OK. See you then"

Warren hung up the phone, and tried to fully absorb what he had just heard. He didn't know what was worse, Terry getting into fights or keeping this fact from him for the past week. His son would have some explaining to do when he got home.

_BB – 1, Warren McGinnis' Apartment, Night_

Terry came back from a night on the town with Dana and Chelsea. He was tuckered out and ready to hit the sack. As he walked up the stairs to the apartment, he felt the full brunt of the few but still painful injuries he had accumulated over the past week. Terry knew it was worth it – better him than the kids he was protecting. Still hurt like hell, though.

As he opened the door, he saw his father in his den chair. Except now he was facing the doorway instead of hunched over the computer screen. On his face was a stern look the likes of which Terry had seen before. He knew.

Terry knew this moment would come eventually. Hell, he was surprised it didn't come earlier. Ever since that day with Nash, Terry found himself having to stop bullies on a more or less regular basis. Some of them seemed to start coming back to their senses and backed off whenever they saw him. Still, Nash and others kept up their act, and Terry was kept pretty busy.

Terry didn't think about what he was going to say to his father when he found out. He was used to doing things based on instinct or impulse, just like that day in Juvie or the countless days after the funeral. Well, here's hoping it works this time, too.

"Dad, before you say anything..."

"I trusted you, Terry", Warren interjected impatiently "You assured me that you were finished with your past behavior. You said you wanted to change and I believed you. Yet it took only half a month for you to go back to your old habits"

"Dad, it's not like that, not exactly. I can explain."

"I don't want to hear about it. You'll have plenty of time to explain when we meet with the school counselor tomorrow at 11:00 AM. In the meantime, you're grounded"

"Dad, this isn't fair"

"That's all, Terry"

Warren watched his son storm into his room and slam the door. Maybe he wasn't fair with Terry, but he didn't feel in a forgiving or fair mood. We'll see his "side of the story" tomorrow, Warren thought. Maybe then, he will have calmed down enough from the shock of today to listen.

_BB – 1, Hamilton High, Counselor's Room, 11:00 AM_

Ray Gardner came into the room with a cup of coffee and sat behind his desk. Warren and Terry McGinnis sat in the two chairs opposite him. From the way they barely looked at each other, you'd think they were complete strangers. He had his work cut out for him. First things first, though.

"Terry, why don't you go first?"

Terry felt relieved that he finally got a chance to defend himself. Maybe now Dad would listen. He looked directly at his father and began:

"Dad, I've been getting into fights defending the smaller kids at school. There are a lot of big guys and jocks who like to show just how big they are by pushing others around. I just stop them from having their way"

"It's not your place to do that, Terry. That's the responsibility of the teachers and the principal" Warren said slowly, trying to restrain his anger.

"He's right, Terry. I realize you want to help, but it's not your job", Gardner added.

Terry felt like a cornered animal. Here he thought his explanation would make his father finally understand (he didn't care one way or another for the counselor), and instead he saw things got worse. Like any cornered animal, he became aggressive,

"Well they're not doing their job right. The jocks like Nelson Nash get to do whatever they want in the school as long as they bring home trophies. I've never seen any of them get as much as a demerit. The other toughs don't care, and they often attack kids in areas out of view of the teachers"

"Terry, if you have complaints, you can go to the teachers or the principal. You can't just go beating other people up", Gardner replied.

"They won't do anything. Am I supposed to also just sit back and do nothing?", Terry replied. His anger now reached a boiling point and was clearly visible to the other two in the room.

"Terry…", his father began, but Terry cut him off.

"I'm not listening to any more of this", he said as he slammed the door behind him.

"I'm sorry you had to see that, Mr. Gardner", Warren said, sighing.

Warren felt as though the clock had now turned back two years, back to when Terry started to get into trouble. It felt like nothing had really changed. As Warren got up to leave, Gardner tried to give him some advice,

"Mr. McGinnis, I think you should try and talk things out with him one-on-one. Maybe he'll feel more comfortable without someone else in the room. I think your son has some unresolved issues you need to work out between you two"

Warren looked down and mumbled "Thank you, Mr. Gardner" and then left. He felt dejected, defeated. What was the use, Warren asked himself.

_BB – 1, Warren McGinnis' Apartment, Three weeks later_

It was a ritual. Terry attacked bullies and got sent to the principal's office. Warren got a phone call, and a meeting was set up. The meetings with Gardner now happened daily, to the point where Gardner simply kept his 11:00 slot open perpetually. Every time it was the same: a dialogue of the deaf, repeated arguments and slammed doors. Things were going nowhere.

Warren finally decided to try and have a serious heart-to-heart with Terry. It wasn't an easy decision to make. Warren had tried to talk to Terry before with no success. Yet the other options were worse. Terry was on a sure path to self-destruction and it would not go away by itself. Sending him to a therapist would do no good – Terry was distrustful enough of authority and strangers. Besides, he barely even noticed Gardner in the room when he came to the meetings. A therapist was not likely to do much better. He had no other choice.

Terry walked in the door and saw his father in the den chair, facing the door. This time, however, the look on his face showed concern rather than sternness. Terry wasn't sure what to make of it, and as he pondered the situation, Warren began to speak,

"Terry, I want to talk. I mean, really talk"

"There's nothing to talk about. We said everything there was to say in the counselor's office. I'm sure we'll repeat it tomorrow…"

"Terry, please". The look in Warren's eyes was almost pleading. He was desperate.

Terry relented when he saw the look in his father's eyes. Maybe now, after three weeks of fighting, he'd finally listen for real. "OK, Dad", he said as he pulled up a chair. "Let's talk"

"Terry, what happened to you? Things were going so well after the funeral. The first few weeks of school went fine. I don't understand what changed all that. Please, I really want to know", he said with the deepest of sincerity.

Terry wondered just how much he should tell his father. Whether he should tell him about the promise he'd made, the fights he'd got into on the street and the rest of it. He saw the deep concern in his father's eyes. They might disagree but he still loved him even if he didn't show it. If he told him about everything, though, the fact that he'd been getting into fights ever since the funeral while hiding it from his father might be the straw that broke the camel's back. Still, he was willing to give it a try. He had felt so bottled up, never able to tell people about what was going on. Maybe Dad would understand.

"Dad, the day of the funeral I made a promise. To myself, to Brady, to the kids I left behind at Juvie. I promised, no, I swore that I would never stand by and watch people get hurt or killed without trying to do everything possible to help them. At school I carry out that promise."

Warren listened but couldn't believe what he was hearing. He remembered how tormented Terry looked the day he got the call, but he thought he had gotten over it. Warren tried to regain his composure and continue,

"But the first few weeks went fine…"

"That's because the guys were afraid of a JD like me. After Nelson Nash showed up and we fought, people stopped being afraid, so I had to fight, not just threaten"

Warren found himself getting more and more upset. "Is there anything else you've hidden from me? Is school the only place you've carried out this 'promise'?"

Terry wanted to lie, but he couldn't. The door was already wide open.

"No. Whenever Jokerz or T's attack civilians on the bus or train or in the street, I help out"

Warren was generally even-tempered, but he was becoming visibly furious.

"Terry, this isn't a game. You could get hurt or killed. Even if you don't, you're still on a one-way track to expulsion and Juvenile Hall. Keep it up, and you'll be in and out of prison. Is that what you want? After all you put me through? What you put your mother through?"

"Dad, I can't go back on my promise. You don't understand"

"What's not to understand? That you're back to beating people up? That you lied to me for months?"

Terry once again felt cornered and reacted accordingly,

"Dad, you don't get it. You spend all your time in a cozy little lab detached from the world. It's easy for you to tell me about 'rules' and 'proper authorities'. I see innocent people hurt every day, and the police rarely get involved. I see guys run roughshod over others just because they can. Have you ever looked into the eyes of victims? Seen them get beat up? Do you know what it's like to look into the eyes of kids you know are going to be horribly murdered the minute you leave, and there's nothing you can do about it? Do you know what it's like to see thugs attack people and see your own face instead of theirs, knowing you were once the same and still could be? Do you?"

Warren's anger built up as he heard Terry's speech. When he finished, he replied angrily,

"As far as I'm concerned, there's no difference between you and them. You're still the same punk I picked up from Juvie. You haven't changed at all"

Terry stood, shocked. He couldn't believe Warren had just said that to him. It was the worst, lowest blow he could have dealt, and both of them knew it. Terry had no reply. He simply ran to his room and slammed the door.

It took Warren a while to realize what he had just done. Terry had succeeded in pushing his buttons so thoroughly that Warren resorted to an ugly tactic. Instead of helping Terry open up and change after all their fights, he had now ensured that Terry would remain closed up, afraid of being hurt like that again.

There seemed no way out of this, now.

PART II: A Beginning, and an End

Chapter 7: A Date to Remember

_BB – 1, Hamilton High, End of the School Day, A Week Later_

It was a good day. Maybe it was the unseasonable heat wave or the fact that spring break was just around the corner. Either way, no-one tried to attack anyone else in school, which meant at least one less visit to the counselor. Let's hope the heat wave keeps up, Terry thought to himself. Maybe I'll have time to actually get an education.

Terry walked toward the bus stop, sweating bullets, when he saw what he thought was a familiar face. He ran towards him, yelling "Matt, wait up!". When he got closer, he saw he had made a mistake, "Sorry, I thought you were someone else". As the kid went off to his mother, Terry began thinking about his own little brother, whom he hadn't seen in over a year. He really missed the little twip, though he'd never admit it to his face if he ever saw him again…

_BB – 7, McGinnis Home (Flashback)_

It had been two days since Mary McGinnis brought little Matthew home from the hospital. His crib was in Terry's room, a foreign object symbolizing a new balance of power. Terry regarded the newcomer to the family with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. He wasn't sure what to make of this uninvited guest. He had been an only child for quite a while and enjoyed the attention. Now, he had competition. Still, his brother seemed so small, so fragile.

"Mom, can I hold him?"

"OK, but be careful", she said, "be sure to hold his head up"

"OK, Mom", Terry said as he took him.

"Whoa, Terry, I said careful! You can't hold him like one of your action figures! Hold him like this", as she helped Terry put him in the proper position, "there, that's better"

Matt didn't seem so threatening, now. In fact Terry was afraid to hurt him.

"Why don't you show Matty around, Terr?"

"Sure, Mom", Terry said.

Terry carried Matt around, giving him a tour of his new abode. First he went through the bedroom, making a clear distinction between what was his property and what was Matt's ("touch my stuff, and you're dead", he said, after which Mary quickly rebuked him). Then he went to through the apartment room by room, describing it as best he could to his new roommate.

It was a nice apartment, with a relatively spacious living room, nice-sized bedrooms and a porch with a view. Terry described what must have been every piece of furniture in the house to Matt – chairs, shelves, tables and all - all the while being careful to hold on to him properly. Mary watched with amusement as Terry took Matt around the house. She had been concerned as to how he would react when she gave birth, and was relieved to see they were getting along. Well, better than expected.

After the ten-cent tour, Terry took him outside onto the porch and sat on one of the chairs. Together they watched the sun go down, the two of them marveling at the beautiful sight. Rays of different hues sprung out over the horizon, and for once Gotham City actually looked, well, beautiful. After several minutes of wonder, Terry looked down at his brother, who had fallen asleep in the meantime. Smiling as he saw that small serene face of his, he thought to himself that maybe having a baby brother wouldn't be so bad.

"OK, Matt, you can stay", Terry whispered in his ear, "but I'm still in charge. As long as you realize that, we'll get along". He then went back into the house and handed the infant back to Mary.

_(end flashback)_

_BB – 1, Entrance to Beefy Burgers_

"Hello. Earth to McGinnis! Anyone there?"

Dana Tan stood in front of Terry, trying to get his attention. Finally Terry woke up.

"Sorry", Terry replied sheepishly, "I guess I got lost in thought"

"Understandable in this heat wave. Come on inside before you melt"

Terry followed Dana into the restaurant, the cool air of the air conditioner providing much needed relief from the heat outside. In truth, Terry felt like he was being given a once-in-a-lifetime break from all his problems today. There were no bullies or thugs to fight. Terry hadn't spoken to his father at all since the last fight, and was looking forward to just having fun with Dana. She appreciated the attention, and agreed to his terms: no discussion of his Dad or the bullies at school.

Still, he couldn't keep his mind off Matt ever since almost meeting him. The air conditioner did more than cool him down physically; he now felt more at ease to reminisce, to wander off into memories of times he'd long since forgotten. It was as if Juvie, Mad Dog, Brady and all the rest had no place in this fast-food haven.

Dana ordered a health salad with tabasco sauce; Terry a triple burger. In the booth across from them sat Howard Groote, a likeable enough kid who was always trying unsuccessfully to get accepted by the elites of the school. There was no Nash, no jocks. It was perfect…

_BB – 3, Cheezy Dan's (Flashback)_

The McGinnis family went to the kids restaurant for what must have been the 33rd time. Or was it the 32nd? Terry had stopped counting after number ten. He liked pizza and cheese as much as anybody, but Matt was just addicted – both to the food and all the games in the store. What was worse, Terry often had to keep an eye on him when he went from game to game to game, while his parents sat and talked. It was like trying to keep up with the Road Runner, from the "Vintage Cartoons" aired on TV. Still, Terry complied reluctantly with his parents' wishes. He even had some fun on occasion, though at times this was from tormenting and tickling Matt.

Terry and Matt finally sat down to eat their pizza, but soon Matt was running back off, slice in hand, to go play some more games. Terry raced after him again, annoyed at having to leave his food. Still, he took his responsibilities as older brother very seriously.

Matt seemed to be having a good time, laughing and munching on pizza, until he started looking like he was coughing. At first Terry thought Matt was playing a trick on him – it wouldn't be the first time – but then he saw Matt was turning blue and unable to speak. Running as fast as he could to his parents, he yelled,

"Mom, Dad! Come quick! Something's wrong with Matt!"

"Terry, are you sure he's not just faking? You know how he likes to play tricks on you"

"No, this time it's for real. His face is changing color! Please, hurry!"

Warren rushed over to Matt and applied the Heimlich maneuver. After a couple of times, Matt coughed out a piece of pizza that got stuck in his throat. Terry was relieved to see Matt OK and hugged his father tightly for support. Warren wondered who needed to be calmed down more – Terry or Matt.

_BB – 3, McGinnis Home_

Matt was fast asleep in his bed, but Terry was still wide awake and started walking to his father's desk. Warren was working late on an important medical research project, but he saw Terry and turned his attention to him.

"Terry, what is it? Why aren't you asleep?"

"Dad, I had a bad dream. I dreamt that Matt was choking, only this time you weren't there, and I didn't know what to do. I didn't know how to do that hug you gave him, and then he…he…"

"Terry, calm down. Matt's OK, and you did good by running to us for help"

"Dad, but what if he needed my help and I didn't know how to hug him right"

"Terry, it's not a 'hug', it's called the Heimlich maneuver. It's a special move that helps someone who chokes"

Terry didn't seem to be pacified, so Warren tried another tack,

"You know what, Terry? I'm free this weekend. If you go to bed right now, I promise I'll teach you the Heimlich"

"OK"

As he watched his son saunter off to bed, Warren smiled. He was pleased he'd be able to teach his son the Heimlich, and he hoped, CPR as well. It had been so long since he'd practiced it himself, way back when he was in the Scouts. It was there that he'd learned and developed a love of nature, as well as the basic skills needed to help people who were injured or unconscious. He could still remember how his friend Harry Tully wounded himself on one of the many hikes the Scouts took, and Warren was able to patch up his wounds quickly to prevent infection. Now he could pass some of that knowledge on to his son.

_BB – 3, McGinnis Home_

Terry woke up and went to the living room only to see a large life-like dummy on the floor with lights on its arm. Puzzled, he approached the strange object when Warren came into the room. Terry asked the obvious question,

"Dad, what's this?"

"It's a CPR dummy. I borrowed it from an old friend from college. It's like the old dummies, except it's sensitive to touch. When you do the maneuver right, the green light goes on, when you get it wrong, the red light goes on"

"Oh, this is what we'll practice the hug on?"

"Yes, Terry"

For the next couple of hours, Warren taught Terry exactly how to do the Heimlich maneuver. Terry caught on pretty quickly, and saw nothing but green. He was more ecstatic than if he'd been offered a free burger.

Over the next couple of weeks, Warren taught him the basics of CPR. This was somewhat harder, and Terry got frustrated every time the light turned red. Still, he wouldn't give up – he paid close attention to his father, and often snuck out of bed to work on the dummy for hours, practicing repeatedly until his father sent him back to bed. One night he finally got it down pat, and promptly collapsed on the dummy. Warren got up at three, expecting to see his son hard at work again. Instead he saw Terry fast asleep on the dummy's stomach, deep in slumber. Warren picked his son up and brought him back to bed. A feeling of satisfaction went through him. He was so proud.

_(End Flashback)_

_BB – 1, Beefy Burgers_

Terry was nodding and half-answering Dana while enjoying his burger, when suddenly he heard loud coughing noises. Howard was choking, and just like his Dad back then, he rushed over and got Howard to cough up the pickle lodged in his throat. After the commotion died down and Howard went back to munching on his burger, a surprised Dana asked,

"Terry, where did you learn that?"

Terry just smiled, "Oh, on a dummy"

As he escorted Dana out the restaurant, he thought to himself – Why can't all my days be like this?

PART II: A Beginning, and an End

Chapter 8: At A Crossroads

_BB – 1, Wayne-Powers Building, A Week Later_

Warren McGinnis took a break from his work to go outside on the landing and watch the sun set. He was cooped up in the office so often, he'd forgotten about nature's marvels. Even the excessive heat couldn't keep him away – he enjoyed that better than the cold, almost inhuman atmosphere inside.

Sipping a cup of ice coffee as he took in the view, Warren found himself lost in thought. So much had changed over the past two years. Between the divorce and Terry, much of his world had come apart at the seams. Not entirely, of course – he still kept in touch with Mary and Matt and helped her out financially. Still, things weren't quite the same.

Then there was Terry. Always Terry. Every time Warren thought about what he'd said to Terry but two weeks ago, he cringed. He quickly realized how hurtful and distorted his statement was, but it was too late to take it back. Everyone said Terry was impulsive, but the truth was Warren was so hurt by Terry's deception that he didn't take care to prepare himself for that heart-to-heart like he should have.

Warren knew Terry cared about others deeply. It was a trait he'd had ever since Matt was born. The fact that he was also willing to step up and risk his life for strangers was something Warren greatly admired; he was even a little jealous that he wasn't that brave. Truth be told, he could have used a friend like Terry during some of his school years.

Warren thought a little about what he was like when he was a little older than Terry. An idealistic young university student with years of community service and membership in the Scouts, he was ready to change the world for the better. His parents had always encouraged him to invest in school and make something of himself, and Warren managed to combine that with his idealism.

Warren graduated Gotham State University with highest honors for all three degrees in Biology. He could have gone to an Ivy League school, but he didn't like the snobby attitude of students there when he came to check it out. Terry got his contempt for snobbish elites honestly.

Getting degrees was one thing, a job another. Warren was by that time already married to Mary, a young astronomy student who was taken with Warren's maturity and idealism. He had a family to support, now, so if he was going to change the world, either through development of medicines or other research, it would have to be with a commercial firm. Universities just didn't have the same pay grades and advancement options.

The problem was that Warren may have finished highly, but there were many others competing for the same jobs. Eventually he joined his friend Harry and was hired by a medium-size R&D firm for biological and genetics research into vaccines and diseases. Warren was in the biology department, while Harry, a genetics and chemistry whiz, worked on the other side of the building. Still, the firm wasn't too large that Warren, Harry and other friends couldn't get together and solve the world's problems over a cup of joe in the cafeteria.

Then the firm was bought out by Wayne-Powers, an ever-expanding conglomerate that seemed to consume the city bit by bit. Warren thought about leaving even though he was one of those allowed to stay after the takeover. There were many allegations surrounding Powers, and although nothing was ever proven, Warren was uneasy. The guy just rubbed him the wrong way, whether it was his too smooth way of talking or the heavily armed guards that paraded around many parts of the building, all of them off limits even to most Wayne-Powers employees.

Still, the financial argument won out – staying in Wayne-Powers meant a still secure job and regular income. He didn't want to risk his family's future because of unproven allegations. That didn't make working at Wayne-Powers any easier. The company demanded much longer hours and Warren was home less and less of the time. Worse, the scientists at Wayne-Powers were all isolated into their own sections, so that actual human interaction – the face-to-face kind – became a rare and exciting event. Warren had to wonder why everything was so compartmentalized. He rarely saw Harry or any of the others any more.

The increasing isolation from human contact and the absences at home strained Warren's and Mary's marriage to the breaking point. Warren just wasn't the same warm, outgoing person Mary had known at Gotham State. The isolation made him draw more and more inward, and the fights increased. Warren also at times suspected Mary had cheated on him because of the distinctive physical features of his sons. He refused, however, to sink that low, and he allowed Mary the benefit of the doubt. Eventually, though, the marriage dissolved.

One of the results of this collapse was Terry's current situation. Terry may have been energetic and even sometimes volatile before, but the divorce drove him over the edge and into Juvie. It seemed everything Warren tried to get through to him, both before and after his incarceration, either backfired or did nothing. Terry was the only human being left in the world with whom he could be in contact with every day, and they weren't on speaking terms.

Warren was scared to death he'd lose him, too, even if he didn't show it on the outside. It wasn't that he didn't admire or support what Terry was doing, at least in terms of helping others. It was just he didn't see any way this could end in anything other than disaster for Terry. As a scientist, he was trained to think logically, and Warren saw no other logical result for Terry's actions than repeat visits to jail or the hospital. He wanted better for his son. He wanted him to find another way to direct that deep compassion of his. Most of all, he didn't want to see him suffer anymore. Terry deserved more.

***************  
_BB – 1, Tan House_

Dana Tan was not often given to introspection. She was the impulsive type, always going to a party and have fun, or jumping at the chance to join the swim team simply because it seemed like a fun thing to do, without thinking too much about the extra hours she'd have to put in practicing. Most of what she did was spur-of-the-moment, "carpe diem" as they tried to teach in French class.

Indeed this was what drew her to Terry in the first place, first as a friend and then as a boyfriend. Terry was just filled with boundless, unlimited energy. He was always climbing, leaping and rappelling around the urban jungle that was Gotham, or pulling cycling stunts that outshone everyone. It was just so exciting to be around him.

Then there was Terry's compassion for others. Before Dana met him, she often felt that everyone was self-centered and unwilling to notice anyone else. The world she inhabited was comprised of people on top who pushed around people on the bottom. Chelsea was of course an exception, but even she never went as far as Terry in word and deed. Dana was as attracted to this as she was to Terry's other qualities. He was someone worth thinking about.

Dana shifted from the past to the present day, and her constant dates with Terry. She appreciated the amount of attention Terry had been giving her over the past two weeks. They saw each other almost daily, and Dana was enjoying every bit of it. Still, something wasn't right.

Terry seemed detached when they were together. Before, even after Juvie, he had confided in her. He even told her about Brady and his promise. Ever since that e-mail from Juvie they had developed a deep emotional bond that superseded mere physical attraction and excitement. Now, if he talked at all, it was the kind of frivolous small talk he used to despise. Other times, he just nodded in assent during discussions as though elsewhere. Terry absolutely refused to discuss the twin elephants in the room – his relationship with his father and his constant fighting.

As much as she supported his taking his helping others to a whole new level, she was afraid for him. Not that he couldn't handle himself, but that he would end up destroying what was left of his life with the constant fights. Terry seemed to be far too easy to provoke lately, and when he became angry it was like he was a different person. Dana wished that person had died at Juvie, and she was afraid that one day he might lose control irreversibly, like he almost did that day with Mad Dog.

Most of all, she felt Terry was shutting her out again, just like when his parents were getting divorced. Without that deep emotional connection, Terry was just another fun friend. Dana wanted more, she wanted Terry in his entirety. Dana wanted Terry to let her back in. She just didn't know how she was going to get him to do it.

*********************  
_BB – 1, Outskirts of Gotham City_

Terry rode the motorcycle he'd borrowed from Jared to the unused roads outside Gotham. It had been ages since he'd felt the wind at his back. As far as he could remember, Terry loved physical activity. He learned how to ride the bicycle very quickly, and just as quickly became bored of it. He was always looking for a new challenge, something to raise his adrenaline level. He might have been a professional athlete, but he never really had the patience to train properly to be able to compete at that level. Terry loved to do, not practice.

When his parents started breaking up, his love also became something else – a way to numb the pain and emotional turmoil he was feeling. To do that as best as possible, he took to cycling. He always had to go faster, do more dangerous stunts. Even dodging the police was fun. Anything not to think about how his family was falling apart.  
Once upon a time, he raced through packed streets. Things were different, now. He was mindful of what Mad Dog had told him about all the people he'd endangered when he did such things. No point in putting others in danger, Terry thought as he rode up to the disused roads in the country outside Gotham.

Terry felt he needed to feel numb again, if only for a little while. He was still furious at his father for what he said, but he didn't want to completely lose him. Warren was the only family he had left. Then there was Dana. He saw Dana's frustration when he avoided talking about anything more serious than shallow gossip. He was just too afraid to be hurt; he was badly burned by his father when he opened up to him, and he didn't want to risk it happening with the other significant person in his life.

Terry rode down the roads, faster and faster. 150 MPH. 160, 170, 180. He felt it again, that adrenaline rush, the keen sense of awareness of his surroundings. Things seemed so clear, so sharp. His coat brushed through the branches as he zipped past trees that started to grow over the roads. Nothing could stop him.

Except this time, the numbness did not come. No matter how hard he tried, how fast he went or how sharp he took turns, the pain would not go away. It stung harder than any branch that caught him. After a while Terry accepted as much and slowed down.

He stopped the motorcycle at the edge of a cliff, just in time to see the sun set. It was just as beautiful as the many times he saw it with Matt. Then, it was just a beautiful sight, a bonding moment with his brother. Now, it meant something more.

Terry had changed irreversibly, and the setting of the sun symbolized for him the end of a period in his life and the potential for a new one. Terry had choices to make, and the options pulled in many directions. He would not give up his promise, but he didn't want to have a complete break with his father. He wanted to open up to Dana, but he didn't want to be hurt again.

The choices were as divergent as the back roads of Gotham and the rays of the sun. Terry got back on the motorcycle, mindful of an old adage his father once taught him.

When you reach a fork in the road, take it.

END PART II: A Beginning, and an End


	3. Chapter 3

PART III: Twilight

Chapter 1: Starcrossed

_BB + 15, Amada Waller's Living Room_

As Amanda Waller left the room with her parting words of advice, Terry McGinnis decided to stay for a while before he returned home. Left to himself – he knew no guards would be heading his way – he let himself relax with one of the techniques he had studied over the years to calm his temper. Breathing more deeply and steadily, Terry started to truly absorb all that Waller had told him - about Bruce, about him, about Batman.

It was a lot to take in. Between the anger at being someone's puppet and the realization of Bruce's innocence, Terry wasn't sure what he wanted to do. It was hard to believe it had come to this. All his life he had fought against fate as he understood it, demanding to run his life on his own terms. It was a struggle he fought with varying degrees of success ever since Juvie, when the Mad Dog tried to convince him that they were fated to be one and the same.

Though he didn't study philosophy until much later in life, he always instinctively understood the nature of his personal struggle between free choice and determination. Philosophers, scientists and others had agonized over it for millennia without ever coming to a clear-cut answer. Just when it seemed free choice had won out, with him fully becoming Batman, along came the revelation that Waller had set it up from the beginning – well, part of it, at least. Even his father's death seemed predetermined after that discovery. He felt more helpless and angry than ever before.

Yet, ironically enough, it was now, when Terry felt himself the freak creation of someone else's fantasy, a helpless robot designed without his knowledge, that he possessed more choice than ever before. Simply put, the fate of Batman himself – the symbol, the legend - was completely in his hands. It was his to bury with Bruce or continue the mission. He had to decide, once and for all, whether he truly wanted to be Batman, whether this was the mission he wanted for himself. Most of all, he had to know that he was genuinely free to choose his own fate…

_BB – 2, McGinnis Home, Back Porch, Sunset_

Terry watched the sunset with his brother just as they had many times before. Only things were different now, and Terry couldn't bring himself to enjoy the beautiful sight as he once did. He saw and heard the constant fighting between Mom and Dad on a daily basis. He tried to ignore it, getting into fights or pulling cycling stunts. This only exacerbated the situation, and Terry's antics were now added to the ever-lengthening list of subjects Mom and Dad fought about. The result seemed inevitable.

Terry knew about divorce. Many of his friends' folks were separated or in the process of doing so. Yet somehow he wanted to believe that his family was different, that he would be fortunate enough that Mom and Dad would reconcile. He felt guilty over his share in the fights, and he often found himself feeling entirely to blame for the lousy situation at home. More than that, though, he was angry - at the powers that be, at the world, at anything and anyone. It didn't help, though, because he felt he could do nothing about the actual problem at home. This only made him lash out more, for all the good it did.

"Terry?"

Terry broke away from his train of thought to see his brother look at him pleadingly.

"What is it, Matt?"

"Why are Dad and Mom fighting all the time?"

"I don't know, Matt. I just don't know"

There was no need to share his own feelings of guilt with his brother. That was a burden he wanted to carry alone.

"It's my fault, isn't it? It's because I keep running off or getting everyone scared all time, right?"

Terry look at Matt, shocked. He never thought for a moment that Matt might be blaming himself as well. This was something he couldn't allow to happen. He cared too much for Matt.

"Matt, no, it's not your fault. Sometimes these things happen. It's nobody's fault. You can't blame yourself for this"

Terry wished he could give himself the same advice.

"But isn't there some way to make it better?", Matt asked, "I don't want Mom and Dad to break up"

Terry sighed deeply and shifted his eyes to the floor of the porch. For Matt's whole life, Terry had tried his best to protect him, even if he tormented and picked on him along the way. Now, there was nothing he could do. It made him feel even more helpless.

"No, Matt. I wish there was"

Matt looked down, too, so Terry tried to console him. He put his hand on Matt's shoulder and said,

"Matt, whatever happens, whether Mom and Dad break up or not, I'll never leave you"

"Promise?"

"I promise"

"OK", Matt said sheepishly.

Terry hoped that he could make good on it. It was the only shred of hope he had left in the world.

_BB – 1, Rhino's Chili, Last Day of Spring Break_

The two-week long heat wave finally broke. Clouds gathered on the horizon, and soon thunder, lightning and rain combined in a great symphony overshadowing the previous intermission. Terry ducked for cover under the awning of the restaurant, still waiting for Dana. As he looked at his watch, he suddenly heard her crying for help.

Some thug was harassing her and wouldn't leave her alone. Terry immediately jumped out into the rain and wiped the floor with the culprit. Furious that someone had tried to hurt Dana, he went further, repeatedly pummeling the guy's face. Then he picked him up, smashed him against the wall, and cocked back his fist. The smooth talking punk tried to keep up his nerve, taunting Terry,

"What, you want this broad?"

Terry hit him as hard as he could in the stomach. Then he picked him up again, and made his intentions crystal clear,

"You stay away from her, or I'll make you wish you were never born. Now scram."

The harasser fled as fast as his legs could carry him. Terry then turned to Dana to make sure she was all right and then they both walked into the restaurant.

They both ordered their chili. Terry noticed something was wrong with Dana. She was usually the one doing all the talking; now she was silent. Terry tried to inquire into the matter,

"Dana, are you OK? That dreg's gone"

"It…it's not him, Terry. We need to talk. I mean, really talk"

Terry wished this day wouldn't come. He knew it would, though he tried to put it off as long as possible.

"About what?", he asked, feigning ignorance of the forthcoming topic of conversation.

"Terry, it's been great meeting you for the past couple of weeks, but I feel like you've been shutting me out. You used to tell me what was going on with you. I was someone you could trust. Now, you tell me about as much as you tell Howard. I'm worried, Terry."

Terry looked down, ashamed. He knew Dana was right. After thinking for a few minutes, he decided to open up, against his better instincts. There was nothing to lose. If he remained closed, he would definitely lose Dana. At least this way, she might stay with him. Sighing deeply, he asked,

"What do you want to know?"

"What happened between you and your father?"

Terry closed his eyes tightly, trying to overcome the urge to clam up right then and there. Slowly he opened his eyes again, this time betraying a strong sense of pain and hurt that Dana clearly recognized. Terry answered slowly,

"We'd been arguing for a while, ever since I started fighting bullies at school. After a couple of weeks, I finally told him everything. About Brady, the kids in Juvie, the promise I made. He threw it back in my face. He called me a punk, said I hadn't changed at all since I left Juvie. We haven't talked since."

Without noticing, Terry had closed his eyes again, trying to hold back the tears. Dana saw clearly that Terry was suffering, but she was glad that he decided to open up to her. Now the question was how to help him.

"Terry, I'm sure your father's just worried about you, and tried to shock you into changing. He probably regrets saying what he did. My father does it all the time; it doesn't mean he doesn't love me"

"It's not the same, Dana. Besides, sometimes I feel that he's right, that I really haven't changed at all"

Dana held Terry's hand and squeezed it tightly. Terry looked up

"You're being ridiculous, Terry. Yes, you still have a short fuse, but I've never seen anyone try as hard to help people he's never met. What would make you think you're still the same?"

"I almost killed someone inside, Dana. All because he pushed the wrong buttons, not even to save another life. What's to stop it from happening again, only this time it'll be too late?"

Dana was pleasantly surprised, as well as relieved. Knowing Terry had the same fears she was having about him gave her hope.

"Terry, you're not the same person you were. I know – I've seen both versions of you. The fact that you're afraid of the consequences of going too far is already a good sign"

Terry looked away and shook his head sadly.

"I don't know if it's enough. I can't stop what I'm doing, Dana, my soul won't let me. But deep down, I'm afraid I'll end up becoming a killer, just like Mad Dog wanted me to be"

Dana lifted Terry's despondent head. In her eyes was a look of fierce determination

"That's not going to happen. I won't let it happen. But you have to let me help you"

"How?"

"I don't know, but we'll find a way. We've got to. I know you, McGinnis. You can be more stubborn than a mule. I've never known you to be the type to give up, ever. You can't do so now"

Terry took a deep breath, heartened by Dana's faith in him. Maybe…

"OK"

Terry let a sad smile creep onto his face as he got up from the booth. He held Dana's hand as tightly as he could, like a drowning man clinging for dear life. He just hoped he wouldn't be swept away by the raging storms, both outside and within.

PART III: Twilight

Chapter 2: Reflections

_BB – 1, Gotham Central Park_

"Check"

Warren contemplated the threat to his king for a few minutes and then turned to look at Harry. It was good to finally see a friend away from that damned building. The thunderstorm had cooled the air considerably, and there was a slight wind blowing through the grass and trees in this, one of the few natural parks left in Gotham City.

Warren and Harry had always been friends as far back as he could remember. Warren was more outgoing and friendly, Harry more shy and introspective. Warren had more social skills, Harry was stronger intellectually. Together they complemented each other. Warren would help Harry out with advice about friends and later girls; Harry helped Warren with the highest-level math problems he sometimes struggled with. Harry sometimes even let Warren beat him in chess even though he was a stronger player.

There was something troubling about Harry today. He was reserved in the extreme, barely talking to Warren as they sat down to play. He also kept looking away from him and folding his arms. Harry wasn't very social, but he always felt comfortable around Warren. Warren decided to approach the issue indirectly,

"So how's the family?"

Harry continued to look down as he replied,

"I haven't seen Allysa or the girls since we split up. The only time I even hear from her is when alimony's due"

"I'm sorry to hear that, Harry. I still keep in touch with Mary and Matthew, and Terry's with me. I tell you, that boy's a real handful", Warren said as he effectively blocked the check.

"At least you get to see your children", Harry said softly, "I never have time because of the company. They've got me working almost 15 hours a day, now"

Warren sighed. Harry wasn't the only one destroyed by the Wayne-Powers conglomerate. Breathing deeply, he started,

"What happened to us, Harry? We used to believe we could change things for the better. At least at our old firm we used to talk daily. I hardly see you or anyone else anymore. I don't even know what it is you do"

Harry became visibly more uncomfortable and looked as if he wanted to run away right then and there. What was he supposed to tell Warren? That his concern for the material welfare of his children led him to agree to work in the restricted areas in the building, effectively signing a deal with the Devil? That most of his friends were either dead or disappeared, disposed of after they'd outlived their usefulness to Derek Powers?

Harry was ashamed to even look at Warren. He knew his friend had always had a strong moral fiber. How was he supposed to tell him that the allegations about Powers were just the tip of the iceberg? That even now he was developing a new, horrifying nerve gas?

Harry got up and nervously apologized,

"Listen, Warren, I…I just remembered that I forgot to do some things at the lab"

"But I thought you also arranged to get out for an hour?"

"I did, it's just…look, we'll do this another time"

As Harry ran off, Warren thought about the slogan for Wayne-Powers – "Bringing people together".

How ironic.

_BB – 1, Gotham D Train_

As Warren rode the train home, he took the time to look out at the city. Usually he sat and read a book, but today he felt like looking outward. Warren looked at the tall buildings and the slum tenements, and slowly he started to realize what Terry was talking about when he said Warren didn't see reality for what it was.

A few decades ago, when Warren was still a youth, Gotham city was a cesspool of low-level crime and corruption on a level that exceeded even New York City during its worst years. Then Neo-Gotham came to be. The city expanded outward leaving the historic core to rot away. The rich and powerful were invited to build huge towers in closely guarded areas, and slowly but surely the city's infrastructure – roads, water, transportation – improved tremendously. Derek Powers did much toward that end, always showing up at ceremonies to cut the ribbons and say a few sound bytes.

That was Neo-Gotham on the outside, a shining city just like its neighbor, Metropolis. Appearances, however, were deceiving. Metropolis was actually cleaned up. Gotham had just been airbrushed, a shiny coat of whitewash meant to hide the rust and the rot hiding just underneath. If you looked closely, you could see slum tenements hiding behind the beautiful new buildings. You could see the anarchy – gangs like the Jokerz and the Ts assaulting people in broad daylight without so much as a cop in sight.

The rich companies didn't even bother to rely on the police, hiring their own private security forces – some might call them armies – instead. Even the police itself had changed. Gone were the beat cops and detectives, people who, even if overwhelmed, could at least be relied on to try and help. Warren remembered how he'd looked up to the GCPD beat cops that patrolled his streets, even if it was only sporadically. How brave they must be, he thought, to risk their lives like this for him just to show they're there.

Now they were very much like the security forces Warren despised at Wayne-Powers, a uniformed, heavily armed strike force ready to move in the case of an extreme emergency but unable to ensure basic law and order on the streets. Most of Warren's neighbors didn't even bother to call them.

Then there was Batman, another symbol that disappeared along with old Gotham. Warren had always been ambivalent about the vigilante, admiring his courage and heroism, but disdainful of his often brutal methods and fearful that he might one day go over the edge and become like the criminals he fought. Warren always hoped that the legal authorities would eventually be able to take over and remove the need for people like him. For a while, it looked like neo-Gotham would be just such a normal city.

Warren now saw it was all a lie. Gotham was a glistening sham, and no amount of technology could cover up the corruption and lawlessness. If anything, Warren missed the old city, with its criminals, cops and corrupt politicians – he even missed Batman. At least he had been a symbol of hope, in his own way.

Now, the city was overshadowed not by the Bat Signal or the sound of police sirens, but by the image of Derek Powers. The man held the city in his grip. Warren still remembered TV spots showing Derek rubbing elbows with the Mayor and the Governor and other movers and shakers in the city.

Derek owned the city at the top, but the gangs owned the streets. Every few blocks, Warren could see someone else being harassed by the multitude of gangs. When they were occasionally arrested, they turned out to be middle to upper class kids who were simply bored with their lives. That was another difference between the two cities – many of old Gotham's crooks at least pretended to use poverty as an excuse, wrong-headed though it was. Neo-Gotham's crooks had so much contempt for the law they didn't even bother with such things.

As he got off the train at his stop, he saw a couple of Jokerz run off, an injured woman left in their wake. Warren rushed over to help tend to her injuries. The woman turned toward him with a look of relief but also fear – no, terror. Warren froze for a moment and then treated her wounds as best he could. As the woman meekly thanked him, Warren went home.

Taking off his coat, he uncharacteristically smashed the wall and then fell into his chair, his head hung in despondency. Terry went through this hell every day. He could hear him in his head, back at their last but seemingly final argument,

_"Have you ever looked into the eyes of victims? Seen them get beat up? Do you know what it's like to look into the eyes of kids you know are going to be horribly murdered the minute you leave, and there's nothing you can do about it? Do you know what it's like to see thugs attack people and see your own face instead of theirs, knowing you were once the same and still could be? Do you?"_

Holding his head in his hands, Warren was on the verge of tears. He had regretted what he'd said earlier, but he hadn't fully absorbed what Terry had told him until now. No, he never saw it, never allowed himself to see it. He felt like such a coward.

Terry's actions now seemed even less that of an angry kid, but rather that of a deeply compassionate human being who could not stand by and allow injustice to happen. Someone who simply refused to give up hope rather than turn away and pretend nothing was wrong.

Warren felt deeply ashamed. His eyes were opened and he hated what he saw – in Gotham and in himself. What happened to Harry? What happened to him? Their idealism had given way to just getting by. God only knew what Harry was involved in at the company. In the meantime, it was Terry, the angry "punk" he'd yelled at earlier who was at least trying to do something. Sure, Terry's actions were wrong in normal circumstances, but Gotham was hardly a normal city.

It felt like they were both in the same predicament, trapped with no way out. Warren was stuck in Wayne-Powers, while his friends disappeared, and Terry was desperately trying to fight the rampant anarchy on the streets. Both seemed doomed to failure.

Warren McGinnis never felt so utterly bereft of hope.

PART III: Twilight

Chapter 3: Images

_BB – 2, McGinnis Home_

"Terry? Terry, it's time for bed"

Mary McGinnis walked on to the porch to find her eldest son fast asleep, long after she had taken Matt to bed. This was not the first time Terry stayed behind on the porch after his brother left.

Ever since Mary and Warren began quarreling in earnest, Terry seemed to be trying to avoid them as much as possible. Whether it was "hanging out with friends" or staying out on the porch, Terry was doing everything he could to avoid being near his parents. Mary regretted the pain he was feeling and tried to talk to him about it, but to no avail. He was completely bottled up.

As Mary started to move Terry, she noticed something she hadn't seen before – a large stack of drawings and Terry's crayons and paints, carefully hidden underneath the bench he slept on. Mary lifted up the stack and sat down beside Terry, curious to see what her son was working on. It was a series of landscape paintings, most of them of sunsets seen from the porch.

Mary knew her son had artistic talent from when he was quite young. Mary, who in another lifetime wanted to be an artist, tried to develop this talent in her son, teaching him all she knew about the craft. Still, the skill with which Terry drew the landscapes – the attention to detail, the mixing of different hues and shades – showed a degree of mastery she never knew her son possessed.

Mary wondered why Terry had kept this to himself – she never saw him draw since she stopped teaching him. As she looked closely, she began to understand. The paintings were not just a hobby - they were a mirror into Terry's soul and feelings. The story they told was both fascinating and frightening.

Terry signed his paintings and wrote the date on the bottom, just as Mary taught him. Paintings from birthdays or happier times showed a calm painting, filled with bright colors and light strokes. They told a tale of hope, of an unending horizon of possibilities and serenity. It was impossible to look at these and not feel pride in the artist.

The latest paintings, however, were markedly different. The coming night was progressively darker and starker. The hues of twilight, once so inviting and calming, were drawn in sharper colors and thicker strokes, creating the impression not of peaceful rays, but a violent fire raging. It was as if the sky was at once an erupting volcano and a suffocating, endless emptiness, a pit swallowing all in its path.

Terry had told Mary all she wanted to know about what was going through Terry during the divorce. Her son was now caught between rage and despair, in a struggle doomed to yield nothing but suffering. Mary looked at her son with all the concern a mother could feel. Her son was going through hell, and he was refusing all help. How could she reach out to him?

Mary knew a separation between her and Warren was now inevitable – the love was gone and they did nothing but fight when together. But this war had other casualties, and Mary saw this now in the starkest of terms in the drawing she carefully put back in Terry's hiding place.

Carrying her son back to bed, Mary silently hoped that the nightmare present in Terry's soul would dissipate. The alternative was too horrible to contemplate.

_BB – 1, Hamilton High, Last Day Before Summer Vacation_

For the entire period between spring break and today, Dana had become more than just a girlfriend. She was Terry's guardian angel. Terry stayed close to her, and she helped to keep his temper and violent tendencies in check. Whenever Terry needed someone to talk to or a shoulder to lean on, she was there. Meetings with Ray Gardner were now once a week instead of daily.

Now Terry wanted to repay the favor, and so he prepared something special for Dana's birthday, fortuitously falling on the Great Day of Teenage Freedom. He couldn't afford to buy anything really nice, so he decided to try for sentimental value. He hoped she would appreciate it, a token of how much he cared for her and appreciated her help.

"So how was your last meeting with the counselor before summer vacation?"

Terry answered,

"The usual. Ray went on and on about my wasted potential, how I could do so much better if I only applied myself. He even brought up the idea of me going back to studying martial arts so I could learn to focus and apply myself to something other than beating up bullies"

"You studied martial arts? I never knew that", Dana interrupted.

"Yeah, I started when I was around eight. My parents wanted me to stop bouncing off the walls, so they signed me up. It was fun for a couple of years, but I didn't have the patience to really advance to the top. I figured, hey, now I have some cool moves, who needs more? Anyway, pretty soon I found myself doing other things to pass the time"

"Yeah, and we all know how that turned out", Dana replied without thinking.

Terry shot her a look that said it all. Dana looked down and continued,

"Sorry, that was out of line. So where are we going?"

"You'll see when we get there", Terry said cryptically.

Terry rode the bike he borrowed from Jared through Gotham's freeways until he got to the back roads. He drove carefully, mindful that he had another passenger. Finally, he stopped the bike at the destination and shut off the motor.

"OK, now you can open your eyes"

Dana took of her helmet and got off the bike. She opened her eyes and started to survey her surroundings. They were near a cliff in a rustic area, surrounded by nature. Continuing to look around, Dana's eyes now fell on a large canvas. Her jaw dropped.

It was a large, almost full-size portrait of her. It was a beautiful rendering; the delicate face and the glowing background made her look almost angelic. Every detail was carefully done, every hue and shade making her look even more alluring. Dana took a few minutes to absorb it all.

Terry asked the obvious,

"Do you like it? I mean, I don't usually do portraits. It took me many tries before I came up with something I liked, and I…"

Dana planted a kiss before he could continue. It lasted quite a while. Then she answered,

"Yes. It's beautiful. It's a wonderful birthday present."

Terry smiled with relief. He and Dana held each other and watched the sun set over the trees. He thought about how much things were getting better. His father was cutting him some more slack at home. The bullies in school were backing down – there were only so many times they could take a beating, even with Dana holding him back. Even his grades were improving – well, at least in the hard sciences. The humanities still held no interest.

Most of all, there was Dana. She was his anchor, his angel, his soulmate. For the first time in over two years, Terry felt not just happy, but content. The chaos in his life was finally reforming into some kind of order. The seed of hope Dana planted in him back in Juvie now matured fully. The future looked brighter than ever.

Terry McGinnis finally knew inner peace.

Part III: Twilight  
Chapter 4: All Fall Down

_BB, "Rebirth", ep. 1 timeline, Gotham County Graveyard_

It was a familiar scene - too familiar. But for the additional mourners and the identity of the deceased, Terry might have thought he'd been sent back in time to another funeral. To be sure, this time people tried to console him, to no avail. "Friends of Warren" he'd never met came to give their condolences, saying, "I feel your pain" and "I'm sorry for your loss". The words bounced off him as so many worthless platitudes. Even Mom and Matt didn't seem to matter; it was just him and the grave he'd helped dig.

At least with Brady he'd expected it to happen in the back of his mind. But this - this was all so sudden, so unexpected. One day his father was there, the next he was gone. It was just so unreal…

_BB, "Rebirth", ep. 1 timeline, Warren McGinnis' Apartment, the previous afternoon_

Warren McGinnis watched his son leave the apartment with a combination of sadness and relief. Sadness, for snapping at his son like that, after all they'd been through. He'd tried to give his son an easier time, but the incident with Harry in the Wayne-Powers Building set him on edge, and he took it out on Terry. The result was another fight - a relatively tame one, all things considered. Relief, because at least Terry was out of harm's way.

For Warren McGinnis knew that he was a dead man. The minute he deciphered the formula on Harry's disc and realized it was a formula for a lethal, practically untreatable nerve gas, it all clicked into a logical solution, one too horrifying to face.

Harry was likely dead by now, those spots on his arm and body a result of the nerve gas and not some "allergic reaction" to an innocent "chemical compound". No doubt the leak was engineered – why else go to all the trouble of tracking him down and sedating him? Why else would Harry go to the trouble of entrusting him with such sensitive material?

He also knew he was next. Warren had never been a particularly good liar, and he had no doubt Powers suspected him of having the disk. Damned nervous walking habits. He tried to call the police, but his phone line was disconnected. It was the same with his Internet connection. Any attempt to go out of the house at this hour was as likely to get him killed by a random attacker as by Powers' storm-troopers. There was only one other option he could think of.

As he entered Terry's room, he thought this was one time he was glad Terry didn't clean his room. No one would think to look here, in the incredibly messy abode of a teenage rebel. Sticking the disc in the back of a picture of himself and Terry during happier times, Warren closed his eyes.

They say your whole life flashes before your eyes when you are about to die. Warren certainly had sudden flashbacks – of Mary, Matthew, Harry and Terry. So many memories, yet so little time to reflect.

Mostly, though, he felt a deep sense of regret and failure. He'd tried so hard to teach Terry to advance in this world, to steer that energy and compassion of his toward a positive purpose. Now, he would never know what would happen to Terry, whether he would sink again into the abyss or rise to new heights.

Warren cried as he thought about the world he was leaving Terry – a bleak, hopeless hell, where good men like Warren and Harry were forced to sign deals with the Devil to survive. Now the Devil was coming to collect. Warren carefully laid the picture underneath a pile of clothing and then sat on the bed, his head hung in despair.

Goodbye, Terry, he thought.

A few minutes later, the doorbell rang.

_BB, "Rebirth", ep. 1 timeline, Gotham Freeway-Midtown County Bus_

God, what a day, Terry thought to himself as he caught the express bus back to Gotham. It started out so well, too. Terry hit the weight machines all throughout summer vacation with a clear purpose – to beat Nelson Nash at his own game. To whip Nelson in the upcoming wrestling tryouts would likely shut him down faster than a dozen smack-downs after school. Of course, Terry didn't actually practice wrestling technique, but he figured all he needed was muscles and his street moves. He learned his lesson the hard way, first struggling to avoid defeat and then getting thrown out for a fight Nelson started.

Then there was the grounding and the fight with Dad – pretty standard, really. The Jokerz fight would have been standard, too, if he hadn't taken a wrong turn and ended up right smack in the home of the original Batman. Schway couldn't even begin to describe meeting the actual flesh and blood hero, even if he had clearly retired. Still, cool as it was, the guy was also clearly whacked – there was no other living being in the house except his "not-so-nice" dog. As Terry approached his stop, he thought about how he was going to be grounded for the rest of his natural life. It didn't matter; at least he had a father to come home to, instead of just a mean dog.

Getting off, he noticed police cars outside the apartment building. That was odd; police usually didn't even show up in this area unless there was a homi…Oh, no. Terry suddenly got a horrible feeling. Running to the building and up the stairs, all he could think was, Please, God, no, not Dad. Please, no.

After hearing what happened from Mom, Terry ran into the room, only to see Warren McGinnis' lifeless body. Falling to his knees, Terry looked at his father, badly bludgeoned and beaten, his body soaked in blood. Terry held him as tightly as he could, begging his father to wake up, ignoring the police yelling at him for contaminating a crime scene.

He wanted to scream, but he couldn't. The shock was too overwhelming; his grief too powerful to allow for him to even absorb the air necessary to make sounds. All he could do was freeze in place, clinging desperately to his father.

_BB, "Rebirth", ep. 1 timeline, Gotham County Graveyard_

Now Terry found himself here, standing over his father's grave. He barely remembered being pulled off of Warren's body by four cops or getting dressed at Mom's house for the funeral. It was all a blur, as fantastical as the whole series of events from his departure from the bus to the funeral.

None of it made any sense, and his thoughts were also very erratic. The swirl of self-loathing, criticism and doubt ran through Terry's mind like a bad music remix. Why would Dad open the door? He knew enough about the neighborhood to look before doing that? He should have been there. He'd fought off Jokerz before, even held his own alongside the great Batman. He hadn't even left to help someone, just to have some fun with Dana and other friends.

Nothing helped fill the emptiness that Terry now felt. At least at Brady's funeral he'd been able to partially compensate for his pain by ensuring that he'd never look the other way again. Now, all he felt was total worthlessness. He'd selfishly told his Dad off and abandoned him in his hour of need. For all his efforts to become someone worth being, he'd still failed miserably.

Terry now knew only one thing for sure.

He wished he was the one who was buried instead of his father.

END PART III: Twilight


	4. Chapter 4

Part IV: Dark Dawn

Chapter 1: Terry's Rebirth

_McGinnis_..._ Oh, McGiiiiiinnis…Hahahahahaha…_

_Mad Dog's whisper grew louder and louder as Terry fumbled his way in the darkness. Suddenly he found himself back in Juvie, in the exercise hall. A group of Jokerz were beating Tom Brady to death. Terry ran to intervene, and broke up the fight. Looking down at his charge, he froze. It wasn't Brady, it was Dad._

_"Why didn't you help me, Terry? Why weren't…you…there?", Warren said as he closed his eyes._

_After getting over the initial shock, Terry started to run as fast and as far from his father and the Jokerz. Soon, he was once again in the dark void, whispers and laughs getting louder and louder, echoing off the void._

_Worthless punk…you're one of us, now…I won't let Matt grow up to be like you, Terry…I'm so disappointed in you, son…give it, time, you'll come round…Why weren't you there…_

_Terry kept running until he found himself on solid ground again. This time, he was in the graveyard, and there were only two tombstones – of Brady and his father. Mad Dog came from behind a tree, taunting him,_

_"I've got to hand it to you, McGinnis. Two bodies in almost as many years. You're moving up in the world"_

_"I didn't kill them, you and your buddies did", Terry retorted._

_"Does it really make a difference whether you did the deed or let it happen? The blood's still on your hands..."_

_Terry looked down and found himself in Warren's apartment, standing over him. Blood flew from his palms, down his face. Terry tried to run, but Mad Dog kept taunting him,_

_"Go ahead, run all you want. You can't escape the truth. This is what you were meant to be. It's all you're really good at."_

_"No, no, NO! I'm not a monster. I'm not a killer."_

_"What else could you possibly be, McGinnis?", Mad Dog sneered, "A coward? A nobody? A pathetic wannabe vigilante? You tried that – look where it got you. Now your father's dead. Wonder who'll come next – maybe Dan-?"_

_Terry attacked Mad Dog and threw him to the ground. As he approached to deliver more punishment, he saw another figure standing over Mad Dog. It was…himself. Only, the look on "his" face was cruel, cynical, without a hint of humanity or compassion. It was the look of a seasoned, hardened criminal._

_"Here", his doppelganger said as he handed him a small knife, "I like to do it slowly…". The smile on his face showed a sadistic glee in the idea of watching someone else being murdered._

_Mad Dog and "Terry" began laughing at him. There was nowhere to run. To attack them would grant them victory. Helpless, the laughing got louder and louder, the isolation became greater and greater…_

Terry awoke with a start. He was breathing very quickly, as if he'd just run 5 miles. Sweat covered every inch of his body, and his hands were shaking uncontrollably.

It took him several minutes to remember where he was and calm down.

It felt so real…

_BB + 1 week, Mary McGinnis' Apartment_

Well, he had to get up anyway, Terry thought. He could have done without the nightmare, though. Terry took a quick look at his computer, Bruce Wayne's face covering the multiple news items he'd hunted down. He didn't know why, but he'd spent the last week reading everything he could about the man – both him and his alter ego. Maybe it was the need to concentrate on something, anything, that didn't have to do with Dad. Maybe it was simple curiosity and fascination. Whatever it was, Terry's interest grew the more he learned.

Learning that Wayne's parents were murdered in front of him when he was eight was a real eye-opener. God, he thought, what nightmares YOU must have had after that; I'll bet you still do. Mr. Wayne might be an old recluse, but he had Terry's sympathy, now. For seventy years he'd endured a hell Terry was only beginning to encounter.

Then there was his alter-ego. The news items on the Batman – throughout the period Terry covered – were always ambivalent, admiring of the hero yet disdainful of his vigilantism. Terry didn't care much about the illegal part. The degree of Batman's self-sacrifice and constant fight for justice, however, drew him to study even more about the hero. Terry chuckled to himself as he thought that he didn't need really to read news clips about that first part. The guy worked himself up into a possible heart attack to save a punk kid he'd never met.

Anyway, back to real life, Terry thought as he turned off the computer. It was time.

_BB + 1 Week, Warren McGinnis' Apartment_

Dana drove Terry to the apartment, her passenger completely silent the whole time. Another time she might have commented on it, but she figured it best to let time heal the wounds a little. She only hoped that Terry's moving back with his Mom and brother, whom she knew Terry cared for very deeply, would help him know some happiness. God knows he'd suffered enough.

Terry walked up the stairs, the Jokerz graffiti still visible. The police had come and gone, a few strands of crime scene tape the only evidence they'd ever been there. Terry entered the apartment slowly, looking away from the spot where he found Dad's lifeless body. Entering his room, Terry quickly packed up all his things. The less time he spent here, the better. As he left the apartment with his boxes, all he could think was how much he was going to miss his father.

_BB + 1 Week, Bruce Wayne's Mansion_

Dana didn't know why on earth she agreed to this. A storm was brewing and Terry asked her to take him to some house on the outskirts of the city. When she got there, she was even more worried. The mansion and the grounds looked like the scenery from a vintage horror movie. Why on earth would Terry want to come near this place? Had he completely lost it?

Terry rode the whole way to Wayne's house with a determination and singleness of purpose he had not had since Brady's death. He didn't understand the chemistry formulae in the disk Dad left behind, but all he needed to see was "Wayne-Powers Research – Secret" to know this was why his Dad was murdered. Suddenly the helplessness and hopelessness he'd felt before disappeared, replaced with the possibility of redemption.

Going to the cops was not an option. Terry's suspicions about his Dad's murder were right, and if they were so quick to rule the death a random robbery-homicide, they were either in Powers' pocket or simply incompetent. Maybe they just didn't care. Whatever the truth, they couldn't be trusted.

Terry knew he was taking a chance. Wayne might just ignore him and leave him to stand in the wind and the rain only to be barked at by that dog of his. Still, he had to try. Maybe this guy, this hero, would help him. Maybe only he could truly understand the pain, the hell he was experiencing. Surely, he would be the answer.

_BB + 1 Week, Gotham North County Subway Station, The Next Day_

Powers had the disk and had taken his father from him. Wayne refused to help, insisting he was no longer the hero Terry thought he was. Another time, Terry might have completely fallen apart from such complete disillusionment and abandonment.

Not now. That singleness of purpose – to make his father's killers pay for what they did – was now stronger than ever. He didn't care what it took. He didn't think about the risk to himself. He was on his own, but it didn't matter one bit.

The swirling emotions that raged through him these past two years and reached a crescendo now stopped, becoming a sense of focus and clarity Terry desperately needed.

He knew what he needed to do. Now was his one and only chance to make things right, and he was going to take it, no matter what the cost.

There was no turning back now.

PART IV: Dark Dawn

Chapter 2: Parallel Lines Converge

_BB + 1 Week, "Rebirth" ep. 2 timeline, Bruce Wayne's Mansion_

Breaking into the mansion wasn't too difficult – Terry had pulled stunts like this numerous times back in the day. Then it was for fun and reckless abandon. Now he had a very specific purpose in mind. The mutt was out from the spiked meat he tossed. Evading Bruce, whose snores could be heard throughout the mansion, he went into the cave.

There it was. Terry moved a little slower than usual as he put the mask on in front of the glass door. It was as if he could feel a transformation occurring in front of his eyes. One persona was disappearing, another emerging. This was no mere costume, but a symbol. At least for this night, he was not Terry McGinnis, worthless punk, but the legendary hero known as Batman.

Terry took a few minutes to get acquainted with the gadgets in the suit. He had seen many of the functions on display at the restricted section of the World Technology Expo and in his many nights reading on technological advances. After learning what he thought was enough, he set out to his destination – Wayne-Powers corporate headquarters.

As he flew out of the cave, he took one last look at the mansion. If you won't do this, Bruce, Terry thought, then I will.

_BB + 1 Week, "Rebirth" ep. 2 timeline, Wayne Mansion, an hour later_

When Bruce Wayne saw the empty display, he was livid. First he berated himself for letting the security in his house become so lax. It had been so many years since he had donned the suit, or had any human contact at all. The odds that some punk kid whom he just met would discover his identity and swipe the suit the very next day seemed so…unlikely.

Then he turned his anger to the thief. How dare he, Bruce thought. To think he could just take the suit and suddenly become the hero he once was. No training. No mental preparation. No years of transformation into the Dark Knight of Gotham. Just a kid who swiped the suit and just put it on like some Halloween costume.

Bruce tried to talk some sense to Terry on the radio link,

RQ [Rebirth Quote]: _That suit is not yours! You had no right!_

You had no right to take that part of me, to commit that act of trespass. Batman is MY identity, you hear! It is MY crusade, MY mission, no one else's! You're an amateur. Worse, an imposter! Return that suit back to me, now!

RQ: _Somebody had to do something! You sure as hell weren't about to!_

Bruce retorted by warning Terry, but the kid hit a nerve, one Bruce had deeply buried for two decades. He could hear the sub-text, the underlying accusation behind Terry's retort:

You abandoned me, Bruce. I came to you for help and you, the great Batman, left me twisting in the wind. You dashed whatever hope I had left in anyone save myself. What did you want me to do? Sit at home and watch Gotham city continue to go to hell? Let my father's killers get away with what they did? You may have given up, but I sure as hell won't. It hurt, far deeper than McGinnis could possibly realize. The kid was right, though he was loathe to admit it. Still, **he** was the Batman, not Terry.

When Bruce heard Terry talk about how much "fun" it was, Bruce had enough. Think it's fun, McGinnis? Let's see how quickly you change your tone after a couple of good bruises. Bruce was so angry he felt nothing as heard Terry suffer repeated blows. Only when it was necessary to save his life did Bruce release the fail-safe paralysis.

Finally, Terry reached safety. Now the suit may be returned to its rightful owner. Unexpectedly, Terry still stubbornly tried to convince him to go stop Powers. Damn that boy. Doesn't he realize this isn't a game? Bruce was about to shut down the suit permanently, when Terry pulled out his trump,

RQ: _I read up on you, Mr. Wayne. I know how you lost your folks. The man _  
_who murdered my father is on that transport. This is my one chance to _  
_nail him!_

He couldn't believe it. They'd met all of twice and already he knew how to push his most sensitive buttons. No one, not Dick or Barbara or Tim ever succeeded in learning how to do that so quickly. Maybe he'd underestimated the boy.

When Terry mentioned his parents, the pain of their loss came back once again, as strong as it was that night. But it went beyond that – once again, Bruce heard the sub-text loud and clear,

This is my one chance to make things right. Please, don't let me down again.

With a sigh, Bruce told him where to go and wished him good luck. It wasn't the pain that made him do it, but the guilt – the guilt of having given up and abandoned his city for twenty years because of his health. Now Terry asked and received a chance to redeem himself, and in his own way, redeem Bruce as well.

Bruce turned on the video link to watch Terry's progress. He had to admit, the kid had some good instincts and skills. For one thing, Terry clearly learned most of the suit's functions pretty quickly. He even pulled some good tactical moves like that flanking maneuver on the guards. Still, he was sloppy, amateurish, relying more on improvisation than honed skill. That "announcement" to Powers and Fixx was entirely unnecessary and counterproductive.

When Terry announced "I **am** Batman!" to Mr. Fixx, Bruce felt both exhilaration and contempt. The exhilaration came from the thought that Batman could continue to live on, even if he couldn't don the suit. Contempt, because Terry was clearly not Batman - not yet, anyway. As Terry flew away from the crashing hovercraft, he spoke directly to Bruce,

"So you want the suit back now?"

"No, go home and get some rest. You can drop it off tomorrow"

Bruce said those words with a sense of compassion and concern, qualities he thought he'd long since lost in his brutal struggles.

"Fine, and Mr. Wayne?"

"What?", Bruce asked impatiently.

"Thank you"

Bruce turned off the link, and privately said, "You're welcome".

Bruce then took a few minutes to read up on the brash kid who had just rattled him so badly. Turned out this McGinnis kid was a former JD, a small-time punk who'd done 90 days for a B&E. At first Bruce wanted to turn off the computer right then and there, but something made him dig deeper.

No standard small-time punk, dead father or no, would go out and risk their life against incredible odds with minimal hope of success. Criminals were suspicious and cowardly – Terry was gutsy, brave and selfless in the extreme. The determination in his voice as he berated Bruce betrayed a deep sense of pain as well as a powerful conscience. He wanted to know more.

Bruce's investigation revealed that Terry got into quite a few fights at Juvie, including one defending a kid who later died from his wounds…Multiple reports of fighting bullies at school, untouched police reports of a kid fitting Terry's description fighting off street gang members single handedly - it all began to make sense, now.

He didn't have the whole picture yet, but it was clear Terry was fighting demons of his own. He wasn't just out to avenge his father, but also in search of something else. Redemption, perhaps? Maybe…

Bruce turned around and surveyed his gallery from left to right. He quickly skipped over his own costume. Whatever qualms he had about his own mission had been silenced long ago. As he once told his first partner – my decision, no regrets.

He moved right to Dick's costume. His first partner, and perhaps his greatest success in terms of training, but almost as emotionally broken as he was. They hadn't spoken in years, not because of any specific falling out, but because both were too proud to show weakness or open up to each other. With the others, Bruce could at least claim that they had come to him of their own free will. In Dick's case, it was the other way around, and he wondered how he would have ended up were it not for "Robin".

He then moved to the next booth. Barbara. Batgirl. A mistake in so many ways. She never had the same drive, the same need to hit the streets night after night. She deserved a normal life. That was without mentioning their affair, after which Barbara seemed to lose all respect for him. During the twenty years he spent brooding in the mansion, he kept tabs on the criminals of Gotham – his old ones and the new ones, especially Derek Powers. Every so often, he'd try to give Barbara leads or tips, but she wouldn't hear of it. Pride, from both sides, ruined that relationship as well.

Then he turned to the next booth. Instantly, he felt sharp pain throughout his whole body. "That night" might always be the night his parents were murdered, but "Tim's night" was a very close second when it came to causing Bruce anguish. Tim may have "come to him", but Bruce learned too late he should never have let him in. It made no difference that the Joker did the actual deeds. He allowed it to happen by letting Tim into his world. His guilt ran so deep that he refused to even meet with Tim, to look in the eyes of the man he'd destroyed so many years ago.

All of which brought him to the last booth, temporarily empty. He'd never intended there to be another. The suit was meant for him and him alone, in his final years as crime fighter. When he said "Never Again", he meant it. Now, though, he wasn't so sure.

Terry, in his rash action, had at least proven that Gotham still needed Batman, still needed its knight. It could work, Bruce thought. Bruce might not be able to do the physical work, but Terry could, and Bruce would do all the detective work. Terry would be the image, Bruce the prime mover…

"No, no, NO!" Bruce said to himself as he tightly closed his eyes and struggled with himself,

_Haven't you caused enough suffering? Dick and Barbara won't talk to you, Tim was horribly traumatized. What gives you the right to destroy another?_

_I'll be helping him every step of the way, I'll keep him under constant surveillance. I'll never let him alone like Tim. I won't let him come to harm._

_How can you promise that, Batman? You won't be there to take a bullet for him. You can give all the advice you want – __**he'll **__be the one taking the real risks._

_He took similar risks to avenge his father._

_And you would have him continue to risk his life?_

_The suit will protect him._

_It didn't "protect" you twenty years ago, and you had all that training…_

_Enough!_

Bruce opened his eyes, determination replacing anguish. He couldn't resolve his dilemmas now anymore than countless other times back when he'd donned the cape and cowl. All he could do was hope for the best and keep moving.

The Joker was gone. None of the criminals of Neo-Gotham were on that level of depravity or maliciousness. He had to take the chance. Gotham needed Batman, and that was all there was to it.

Bruce went up the stairs to drive to Terry's present known address. He'll approach the boy in full view of his family. It will be his decision and his alone.

_Still trying to assuage your conscience, old man?_

Bruce shut out the thought almost as soon as it surfaced. Now was not the time for regrets and doubts.

As Bruce left the mansion, he realized Terry would only get an hour's sleep by the time he arrived, but it couldn't be helped. If he really was going to be a part of this, he'd better get used to it.

_BB + 1 Week, "Rebirth" ep. 2 timeline, McGinnis Apartment_

Terry snuck into his room through the window and very quietly removed the suit. He took off the mask in front of the mirror, changing back from Batman into Terry McGinnis. He looked away in disgust.

Sitting down on the bed and looking at the mask, Terry took stock of what had just happened. The whole evening, from swiping the suit to his escape from the hovercraft, happened so fast he'd barely had time to breathe. It was the most exhilarating, exciting yet absolutely terrifying experience he'd ever had. Nevertheless, he didn't regret it for a second.

Terry knew this was a one-shot deal. Tomorrow he'd return the suit to an angry Bruce and go back to struggling with his demons on his own. But for one night at least, Terry felt he'd took part in something larger; that he'd transformed his own personal fights into a great crusade. At least for tonight, Terry felt like the ultimate type of person worth being. A hero.

Before collapsing on the bed from exhaustion, Terry looked at the photo of himself and his father which contained the disc that started it all. Tears flowed from his eyes. Regret and guilt streamed through him as powerfully as a week ago when he first held his Dad's body. He wanted to beg forgiveness for not being there when his Dad needed him most. The fact that he would not have been able to stop a professional hit man like Fixx made no difference. The guilt was there just the same. Most of all, Terry wanted closure. He wanted to be able to say goodbye; to end or at least lessen the pain, but he couldn't. Something stopped him from doing it – something his father taught him a long time ago.

When Terry was younger, he often got injured with his constant running around. Warren was always the one to dress his wounds, and Terry always complained about how much it hurt. His father would calm him down by explaining that pain is actually a good thing. Pain is nature's way of telling us something's wrong with us, like an alarm warning us of danger. If it weren't for pain, small wounds might grow into large ones and become dangerous, if not lethal.

Now Terry took that lesson to heart. Ever since Juvie, he knew that there was something terribly wrong with him - not physically, but in his soul. The nightmares he'd been having lately were only one manifestation of that darkness. As long as it existed, Terry didn't want the pain to go away or weaken. He wanted it to always keep him alert to the danger of falling into the abyss. He owed his father, who'd tried so hard to keep him from harm, that much.

Terry lay down the picture and collapsed on the bed, ready to fight the nightmares once more.

_BB + 1 week, "Rebirth" ep. 2 timeline, an hour later_

Terry went back into his room after his meeting with Mr. Wayne. Though still exhausted beyond belief, he was also very excited. He didn't bother to listen to Bruce's warning about his being a difficult taskmaster. He didn't think about the risk to himself. The chance to truly **become** Batman, not just be him for one night, was an opportunity he had no intention of passing up. Finally, Terry thought, here was the chance for redemption he'd been looking for all these years.

There was something else, though he couldn't put his finger on it as he dozed off into a deep sleep…

_McGinnis…Oh, McGinnis…Hahahahahaha_

_Terry found himself back in the graveyard. Mad Dog and his evil "other" were laughing at him._

_This time, however, it was different. Bruce Wayne was beside him, holding the Bat cowl. Terry, confused, looked down to see he was wearing the Batsuit, the red emblem lighting up like a powerful beacon of hope._

_"You know what to do", Bruce said as he handed him the cowl. Somehow, Terry knew what Bruce was talking about._

_Getting up, he put on the mask, transforming himself once again. Then he said two short words,_

_"Sic 'em"_

_All at once, from dozens of holes in the ground, thousands upon thousands of bats emerged, blotting out the sky and descending in all their fury on Mad Dog and "Terry". Desperately they struggled to fight them off, but it was no use. They both began to flee, not before a quick parting shot,_

_"This…ungh…isn't…ow…over, McGinnis. We'll be back. Count on it"_

_"And I'll be waiting", Terry said in a deep, menacing tone._

_Bats continued to fill the air and flock around him, their master. Terry, beginning to take in the power at his command, looked intently at his fleeing foes with relish._

_It was just like he'd told Mr. Fixx, who failed to get the message. He was now the terror of crime, the demon the monsters fear._

He _**was **__Batman._

PART IV: Dark Dawn

Chapter 3: Gains and Losses

_BB + 6 months, pre "Ascension" timeline, McGinnis Apartment_

Mary McGinnis watched her son leave the house from her window, sipping a freshly made cup of coffee. Terry took his motorcycle – paid for by Bruce Wayne – out onto the highway from the apartment building, waving goodbye one last time. In a few seconds, he was gone.

Terry had really changed a great deal since that day at Juvenile Hall when she washed her hands of him. True, he was still a teenager, never doing chores or making the bed. Still, he was more responsible, more compassionate. He was certainly not the volatile, angry kid she saw back in the Hall.

It took Mary a while to truly absorb this fact. She never told Terry, but in the last months of his life, Warren took every opportunity to try and convince Mary to let Terry be with Matt, or at least visit. He described in detail how he'd changed, how he'd matured. Warren would go on about how deeply compassionate Terry had become, how much he cared now - even for complete strangers. He needs as much emotional support as he can get, Warren pleaded time and again, please let him see Matt.

Mary didn't want to hear it at the time. She couldn't believe the violent juvenile delinquent that was her son had changed, and she refused to expose Matt to such influence. It was only when Mary saw how Terry reacted at the scene of his father's murder and afterwards, that she realized how wrong and needlessly stubborn she'd been. All that regret and pain she saw in Terry's eyes told her that Warren had been right all along. The fact that he was willing – nay, eager - to risk his life to protect his father against a whole Jokerz gang spoke volumes. Terry **had** changed – maybe ever since he started to defend helpless kids in the Hall, maybe afterward.

This was to say nothing of Terry's new job. Mary was proud for her son for having taken on the responsibilities of assisting Mr. Wayne. To work for such a man would surely teach him how to act properly and responsibly. The money wasn't bad, either, with 50% of Terry's salary going to help the McGinnis family finances. She was even willing to look the other way at Terry's strange working hours – well, most of the time.

Mary hoped that things would continue to get better, and that scares like the "slapper" incident would not repeat themselves.

Lord knows, they had suffered enough already.

_BB + 6 months, pre "Ascension" timeline, Hamilton High_

Dana Tan watched as Terry jumped on his bike to go to his job with Mr. Wayne. He barely waved goodbye as he disappeared into the Gotham urban jungle. It was a routine that was becoming tiresome.

Ever since Terry's father's death, her now on-and-off boyfriend had clocked what felt like three times more hours with his new employer than they had spent together during the past two years. For her and Terry to spend any time alone without the phone ringing was a rare and precious event. She just didn't know how to handle it.

Between Terry's time at Juvie and Warren McGinnis' death, Dana and Terry had grown extremely close. That painting a few months back was just the latest manifestation of a bond that was quickly blossoming into love. Then Terry's Dad died. As if by magic, Terry's inner world, that realm of torment, conscience and sense of justice became completely closed to her. They still shared physical intimacy, but the emotional intimacy was completely gone. Sure, he was still a great and fun guy, but there were lots of great and fun guys. She wanted Terry, but he was now much more devoted, in time and spirit, to Mr. Wayne.

Dana didn't understand this sudden and intense devotion to a man he'd met by chance. It didn't make any sense. Even if she bought the story about Terry saving Bruce's life, how did that result in such a high-stress demanding "job"? Surely Terry could find other, albeit less well-paying jobs that took up less of his time? More importantly, what was the connection to that night when she left Terry on – now she knew – Wayne's doorstep?

Dana shook her head in despair. The only way to answer those questions was for Terry to answer them, and that was not going to happen. She could only cling to the hope that one day, Terry would let her back in again.

_BB + 6 months, pre "Ascension" timeline, Gotham PD Headquarters_

Barbara Gordon took a few minutes to look out her window at the setting sun. She knew that soon **her** shift would be up, and **his** would begin. Sipping her cup of bad coffee, she lost herself in self-reflection, harking back to another time.

She meant it when she told McGinnis that "it was like ballet". Being with Bruce, first as his partner against crime, then as his partner in other ways, was an exhilarating experience. It was a fantasy world, filled with heroes, villains, intrigue and danger. In short, it was everything a young, precocious woman could hope for. Even Dick, as much as she cared for him, could not pry her away from it.

The fantasy, however, eventually deteriorated into a nightmare. First there was what happened to Tim. Barbara would never forget that night, holding a broken child in her arms and desperately trying to console him. She now saw and understood just how dangerous and consuming, nay – destructive, Bruce's world really was. She sighed with relief when Batman forbade Tim to return, hoping that he would eventually recover and leave this nightmare.

After that, Barbara began to really notice just how emotionally broken Bruce was, an ailment that only deepened with his guilt over Tim. Before that night, she saw his dark and brooding demeanor as just a quirk, a character trait but nothing more. Now she realized that Bruce was lost in a nightmarish world; Batman and the cave were merely the external manifestation of that, not the other way around.

Having seen what happened to Tim, Barbara eventually decided she couldn't do it anymore. She stayed for a while, with the hope of extracting Bruce from his suffering, to get him out before he was ruined as well. But no amount of pleading or jokes would change him. Maybe it was his stubbornness, or maybe he was doomed to remain in the darkness. So she left, mourning the two people who had been destroyed by the world of Batman and determined not to suffer the same fate.

Now Bruce had a new protégé, this McGinnis kid. Barbara wasn't sure what to make of him. Sure he claimed he chose this path, but then again, they all did, only to find themselves desperately trying to get out or be consumed by it. She was less afraid that Bruce would remake him in his own image than Terry would be just another victim of the nightmare.

Sure, the kid was clearly dedicated to what he did – he'd lasted six months with Bruce and was still going strong. He was also clearly quite skilled, holding his own against monsters like Blight and high-level assassins like Curare. Still, he was cocky, brash and was going to get himself killed if he didn't learn some discipline and restraint.

There was something else, too. When Barbara asked Terry if Warren was his father, she discerned a brief flash of fury in his face. Though he later warmed up to her when she revealed she was Batgirl, it was clear Terry had no love for the police. Maybe it was his stint in Juvie, but she doubted it. More likely it had to do with the criminally negligent job her men did in handling his father's murder.

She'd seen the case file. The officers in charge barely went through the motions, failing to ask obvious questions like why Warren would open the door to Jokerz, or why were so many valuables left behind. To them, and she hated to admit – to her, he was just another random murder victim, a statistic on the yearly reports she submitted to the Mayor. Small wonder then that Terry turned to Bruce instead of her.

Barbara sympathized, even understood his need for justice, to protect those who couldn't be protected by the police. She'd done the same when her father was "merely" threatened with jail. But she could not abide by the thought of another human being destroyed like Tim. Terry even reminded her of him, with his jocular attitude. But all her exhortations to Terry fell on deaf ears. Barbara hated to admit it, but Terry was going to have to see for himself just how dark Bruce's world really was.

She only prayed he would get out before it was too late.

_BB + 6 months, pre "Ascension" timeline, Gotham Freeway_

It was strange. Terry used to go cycling on the Gotham roads to **forget** about his struggles. But now there was no avoiding them. Over the past six months, there was barely a street or building where Terry had not fought with a super-villain, saved innocent lives or broken up gangs. The whole city was a war zone, and Terry remembered each and every battle. It weighed on him heavily. Right turn here.

The pain of Brady's death was bad enough. Then his father died; the nightmares continued to haunt him. Now, it was as if he was carrying the weight of the whole city on his shoulders. Before, he saved anyone who happened to cross his path. Now, he found himself constantly thinking about all those who were out there and needed his help.

Terry wasn't naïve. He knew he couldn't save every innocent, stop every criminal. Juvie and Brady taught him that much. But there was so much he **could** do, now that he was Batman, and the strain of that heavy responsibility only added to his constant physical and emotional exhaustion. Phew, that was close.

Terry didn't know how much more he could take. This "job" was consuming his life, destroying what few relationships he had left in the "normal" world. It was as if Terry's life was a case study of the law of entropy, the second law of thermodynamics (his father taught him), according to which you either lose what you have (in terms of useful energy) or stay the same – you can't gain more. OK, here we take a left.

That was a pretty useful metaphor. When he went to Juvie, he lost his parents, Dana and Matt. Then he got his father and Dana back. Now Dad was dead and Dana and he barely held together. As for Mom and Matt, they both seemed to still be wary of him. Mom seemed to still think of him as the punk she saw in Juvie. Matt was especially annoying, but deep down Terry knew it was because he'd broken his promise never to leave him. That it wasn't his decision made no difference; he'd caused it to happen through his recklessness. It seemed that everyone he cared for in his civilian life was slipping away from him.

Then there was Bruce. Terry looked up to him, admired him for his heroism and dedication. But their relationship was often strained. He was only with him six months, and they argued almost as much as he used to argue with his Dad during the most strained of times. Terry wanted **something** of a life alongside Batman, Bruce seemed determined to make sure Batman **was** his life. Terry wanted to able to show he could do things on his own, but Bruce seemed determined to upstage him whenever possible, like when he wanted to look for Inque when she escaped from Gotham Cryogenics.

There he was, proud of himself for thinking about looking for labs where Inque could find a cure for her condition, and Bruce already had the list. He wondered whether he was simply Bruce's physical extension – the man **did** still call himself Batman in his mind - rather than being Batman in his own right. The idea grated. Damn, missed the exit.

Then there was the fact that Bruce was now an old hermit, having wrecked every relationship he had with people who cared for him. Barbara barely tolerated him; God only knew what Dick and Tim thought of the man. Was this what he was doomed to become - a broken, bitter old shell of a human being, hated or reviled by those he used to love? Was that his fate?

Terry had no illusions about the alternative. Quitting being Batman would not make the pain or the nightmares go away. It would not eliminate his ever-growing awareness of human suffering in Gotham City. He would simply be forced to continue fighting his demons and the injustices around him as Terry McGinnis, with eventual failure and disaster. Batman was the most effective weapon against the two.

Still, the price he was paying for being Batman – he considered himself such, even if Bruce didn't - was steep and getting steeper. There had to be a way to become the Dark Knight of Gotham without being completely consumed by it like Bruce was. He just had to find it. OK, now left onto the road to the Haunted House.

As he parked the bike behind the gate to the manor, Terry looked up to his final destination. There had to be some way to become Batman without becoming Bruce. There just had to be.

Until then, onward to the next battle.

Wonder where it'll be this time.

PART IV: Dark Dawn

Chapter 4: The Ultimate Test

_BB + 7 months, "Ascension" Timeline, McGinnis Apartment, after Blight's escape_

There were many things that were frustrating about being Batman. Getting little sleep was one; the lack of a real social life another. Working with Bruce was no easy task; sometimes Terry felt he argued with Bruce almost as much as he fought bad guys. There was also the Sisyphean task of taking down dangerous criminals like Inque repeatedly.

Nothing, however, was more frustrating than seeing Derek Powers, the man behind his father's murder, free and practically untouchable by the law. Terry had managed to put away or at least ruin many a criminal during his stint as Batman. But Powers seemed to be able to deflect every crime, avoid any punishment.

Terry still remembered how Powers entered Bruce's former hospital room, all calm and commanding, telling him how he'd take over Bruce's affairs, effectively robbing him of his last real remaining psychological anchor. It was as if that smarmy face of his was saying, "I took your real father from you, and now I'll take your mentor as well, and there's nothing you can do about it". Terry remembered how he wanted to tear Powers limb from limb right then and there – and he would have, were it not for the orderly.

Sure, he stopped quite a number of Power's schemes, from his nerve gas venture to his waste-dumping to Inque and Shreik's shenanigans. Nothing seemed to stick to Powers, though. The man just had too much political influence. It seemed that nothing short of full, televised confession would convince the law to go after him.

Terry hoped the link he found between Powers and Blight would finally be the breakthrough he was looking for.

Maybe his father could finally know some peace.

_BB + 7 months, "Ascension" Timeline, Wayne Manor, Living Room_

AQ ["Ascension" Quote]:

_Terry: You mean, I made him [Derek Powers into Blight] that?_

_Bruce: You may have, in part._

_Terry: Good!…Hey! This guy had my father murdered and all he's done since_  
_is hide from the law. Well, no more hiding for Mr. Derek Powers, now everyone_  
_can see what he is…even in the dark._

Bruce watched Terry leave to go after Powers with a great deal of concern. He was taken aback by Terry's harsh response and lack of remorse for what happened to Powers. Granted, Powers had his father murdered as well as many others. Still, Terry's reaction worried Bruce.

It was easy for Bruce to forget that Terry actually had a dark side to him, one that seemed to rival his own in intensity at times. Terry just acted so often like a typical teenager - making smart-aleck remarks, cracking jokes and having temper tantrums. Bruce could still remember their little spat regarding Melanie "Ten" Walker. But this particular outburst reminded Bruce of what he had suspected when he first looked into Terry's past – the kid had his own demons haunting him.

Now that Terry was going after his father's killer, the danger that he would lose control, that he would cross the line, was clear and immediate. Bruce had to find some way to save Terry from himself, to ensure that he would bring Powers to justice, not an early grave. He had a responsibility, to Batman as well as to his own conscience, to ensure Terry would not end up like Tim or worse. Too many people had already been lost to the darkness.

_BB + 7 months, "Ascension" Timeline, Wayne Manor, Batcave_

Terry walked up to the Bat-computer to hear Bruce describe his "other" way of finding Powers. After Bruce finished explaining his hunch about Ms. Winston's being more than just a secretary to Powers and that he should follow her, Terry replied impatiently,

"Is that it? You could have told me this over the radio, you know"

Bruce intensified his gaze at Terry.

"No. There was one other thing…"

Suddenly, Terry noticed that the failsafe switch was opened. Before he could react, Bruce paralyzed his suit, freezing him in place just like that day at Wayne-Powers when he first swiped it. After getting over the initial shock, Terry lashed out,

"What the hell was that for?"

Bruce kept a steady pose, eyes forward, as he responded forcefully,

"That wasn't for what you did, but for what you're thinking of doing"

"What are you talking about?"

"You and Powers. The last time you and he got mixed up, he was doused in nerve gas. That's not to mention the time you tried to assault him in the hospital. Now you've shown no remorse whatsoever for his condition. If I'm going to let you go after him, I need to know for sure you're not going to lose control and take him out. I need to know you can keep your emotions in check."

Terry became visibly furious, even through the mask. In a slow, but harshly menacing tone, he responded,

"That man murdered my father and got away scot free. How would you react if you ever found your parents' killer? Think **you **could 'keep your emotions in check'?"

Once again, Terry pushed one of Bruce's most sensitive buttons, and he reacted accordingly,

"This isn't about me, it's about you! Now either you convince me that you're not going to kill him, or we're done!"

Terry responded immediately,

"I'm Batman. Batman doesn't kill."

Bruce, already on edge, became visibly livid.

"You don't get to give me that answer! You haven't yet earned the right to give me that answer!"

So the truth comes out, Terry thought. For seven straight months Terry had put his life on the line, and Bruce still didn't consider him worthy of the mantle he had taken upon himself. Right now, he wanted to rip Bruce to shreds instead of Powers.

Bruce regained some of his composure and steadied his gaze once again.

"Either you convince me that the man behind the mask will not do it, or it's over."

"Even if it means Powers goes free?", Terry asked with amazement.

"Yes. I would rather he go free than you become a murderer."

Terry at first refused to respond, and Bruce waited for an answer. They stared at each other for over an hour, neither side willing to budge from their respective positions. It was a complete stalemate.

Finally, Terry relented. He decided to tell him exactly why, as painful as it would be to dig up those memories. Furious as he was at Bruce, he was not going to give up the opportunity to bring Powers to justice. He had waited too long for the chance to let it slip away. After several deep breaths, he began,

"I'm assuming you've seen my file from my time at Juvie. Did it mention a fight with a William Madigan?"

"Among others. There wasn't much of a description beyond stating that you had an altercation and the guards had to pull you off each other."

"It was a lot more than just an altercation…"

For the first time since he opened himself up to Dana, Terry recalled that horrible day blow-by-blow, detail by excruciating detail. Bruce listened intently and carefully, himself reliving some of the worst moments in his career, when he was going up against the monsters of humanity. As he reached the end, Terry explained,

"I wanted to do it. Every fiber in my being wanted to see him dead. Probably would have saved some lives, too. But looking at him smile at me like that, I knew. The minute I crossed that line, I would become him - a killer, a monster."

Terry closed his eyes and took some more deep breaths. Every sound he uttered required an enormous amount of effort. Then he continued,

"I've spent the better part of two years trying to avoid fulfilling my 'potential', as Mad Dog put it. I've been tempted many times, but I never let myself cross that line under any circumstances, because then Mad Dog will have won – I'd have become no better than him. That's why I didn't try to take Powers out that night I swiped the suit. I doubt even you could have stopped me from slicing his head off with a batarang if I'd wanted to. That's why I won't kill him now."

Bruce raised an eyebrow at Terry's gumption, but Terry ignored it and went on,

"I didn't intend for Powers to be exposed to the gas; I just threw the only object that was handy at him. I don't regret what happened to him, he made his own bed. But I won't kill him – not because I care at all about him, but for my own sake."

Bruce continued to stare intently without moving, so Terry ended with a parting shot, after which they would probably return to the stalemate of silence,

"I don't give a damn if you're convinced by my answer or not. It's the truth."

Bruce continued not to budge for a few minutes. Then he released the failsafe. Terry fell to the ground.

"Be careful" was all Bruce said, apparently determined to have the last word.

Terry flew off in pursuit of Ms. Winston, content to let him have it.

He had more important things to attend to.

_BB + 7 months, "Ascension" Timeline, Gotham Pier, Dock 57, 9:00 PM_

Terry stood on a building over looking the decommissioned nuclear sub that now served as hideout for Derek Powers A.K.A. Blight. In one hour, he would face the moment of truth. He'd clearly convinced Bruce he wouldn't cross the line. He himself was doubly determined not to do so. But would that be enough?

All of Terry's altercations with villains up until now had involved very little in the way of preparation and planning. For the most part, he relied on the suit, his own improving instincts and Bruce's help to make it through. Most of the time, it worked, though there were a couple of near disasters, such as the fights with Inque and Terry's first encounter with Blight.

Terry was determined this time not to leave things up to luck. He spent two weeks carefully planning Blight's capture, ensuring the plan was airtight. Every day, he kept the sub under surveillance, watching Ms. Winston's comings and goings, and carefully learning Blight's daily routine under camouflage. He spent hours going up and down the sub and studying its blueprints, taken from a military database. He didn't rest until he knew the place inside and out, choosing exactly which hatches to use, which path to take. Even Bruce seemed impressed by his diligence and skill.

Even so, he was wracked with doubt. The nightmares came back in full force every day of preparation; even the bats couldn't keep his doppelganger away. He remembered the one from last night most vividly…

_[flashback]_

_Terry was once again in the graveyard. His "Other" stood opposite him, below him was_ _a wounded Blight, prostrate on the floor. Terry taunted his alter ego,_

_"Where's your buddy?"_

_"Mad Dog doesn't have to be here for this. This is between us and him", he said, a rare look of seriousness on his face._

_"There is no 'us'. I'm putting him behind bars", Terry retorted._

_"That's not what you __**really**__ want, is it? I know you had to give that performance so Wayne would let you hunt him, but you can tell __**me**__ the truth…"_

_"That __**WAS**__ the truth!", Terry yelled with all his might._

_"You can get rid of Mad Dog, Terry, but you can't get rid of me. I'm part of you, whether you like it or not. I __**know**__ part of you, me, wants him dead…"_

_[end flashback]_

Terry opened his eyes and checked his digital watch. 9:45 PM. Almost time.

He had to overcome the monster inside him, to prove once and for all – to Bruce, to his tormentors and most of all to himself, that he alone was master of his own fate. He had to show himself to be a hero, not a killer.

10:00 PM.

Time to end this once and for all.

_BB + 7 months, "Ascension" Timeline, Wayne Manor, Batcave_

Bruce breathed a deep sigh of relief as Terry proved he would not take the ultimate revenge on Powers. He was impressed with Terry's desire to help the bastard even though it would cost him his own life. As he listened to Terry give a warning to Paxton for making an enemy of Blight, Bruce talked to Terry on the radio link,

"Come back to the cave. I need to talk to you"

"I don't feel like being paralyzed again", Terry retorted.

"I won't hit the failsafe. I promise"

Terry detected a decidedly different tone in Bruce's voice, a tone of softness and compassion he'd never heard before tonight. He wanted to hear what Bruce had to say, if only out of curiosity.

"Fine. I'll be there soon"

Bruce shut off the radio link and started to steel himself for the moment. The past two weeks had been nerve wracking for him, though he did his best not to show it. In spite of Terry's reassurances, he still worried that Terry would fall into the "pit of revenge" Alfred had warned him of years ago, when he lost Andrea for good.

Now Terry had repaid his confidence and trust, as well as opened up to him, showing him a side of himself he'd clearly tried to keep hidden. Bruce wanted to thank him, to show just how much he was proud of him for overcoming such an awful hurdle. Bruce, who was never very good at showing gratitude or expressing feelings, nevertheless decided to make the effort. For better or for worse, Terry was part of his world now, maybe more than anyone else had ever been. There could be no secrets between Batmen. Well, maybe a few, but that was another matter.

Terry entered the cave and took off the mask. He approached the Batcomputer and started,

"Well, what was it you wanted to tell me?"

Bruce looked at him. His expression was not one of a steeled warrior but rather a deeply wounded human being.

"You…wanted to know…why I stopped being Batman"

Terry was incredulous. For this I lost an hour and a half of sleep?

"I know, I know, your heart…"

"No", Bruce interjected "That's not the whole truth. You deserve to know the whole story"

With a slowness and gravity matching that of Terry's narration two weeks earlier, Bruce told Terry of his last night as crime fighter, leaving nothing back. He described in detail how he, the great Batman, a hero who had defeated horrible enemies both domestic and global, was brought to his knees by heart trouble and a rent-a-thug with a wrench. When he got to the point describing his picking up the gun, his eyes were fixed on the floor, ashamed of his failure.

Terry couldn't help but ask,

"Would…you have…"

"I…don't know", Bruce said, continuing to look down.

Terry was stunned. So **that** was why. Having already been forced to violate one of his most sacred rules, he retired rather than risk violating his ultimate one. Terry felt humbled, realizing there was more to being Batman than just saving lives and catching bad guys. He started to wonder himself if he was really up to the challenge.

Bruce got up and continued,

"In response to your other question, I don't know what I would have done if I ever found my parents' killer…but now, I know how you would. You faced a terrible test tonight, Terry, maybe the ultimate one, and you passed. Tonight you have truly earned the right to call yourself Batman."

If Terry's jaw could drop to the floor, it would do so in a heartbeat. Bruce Wayne, the most emotionally repressed man he'd ever met, had not only told him one of his deepest secrets. He, the great Batman, had shown himself to be just as vulnerable to doubt as Terry was that day. To top it all off, he'd shown him the ultimate vote of confidence, at a deeper level than even his real father had done.

When he started being Batman, he thought Bruce could help mainly with the training and advice, while he fought his inner battles alone. Now he realized that both of them shared a bond, a shared struggle with the great darkness, each in their own way. He was proud to finally, truly find a kindred spirit in Bruce Wayne.

Bruce, having exposed too much of himself already, closed back up; his face reverting back to his perpetual scowl.

"Now go home and get some rest", he said, "Blight may be out of commission for now, but there are plenty of other criminals out there to keep Batman busy…and for God's sake, start eating more" he said as he poked Terry in the stomach, "Lord knows I pay you enough".

Terry just smiled and nodded. Kindred spirits, indeed.

As Bruce went upstairs, Terry headed back home.

His internal fight wasn't over, but at least he knew he had an ally.

END: PART IV: Dark Dawn


	5. Chapter 5

PART V: Growing Pains

Chapter 1: Memories

_BB + 8 months, post-"Revenant", McGinnis Apartment_

Terry stopped tickling Matt, and they sat together for a while, the two of them holding each other just as naturally as before the divorce, effecting a silent reconnection. Maybe it was his training as the heir to the World's Greatest Detective, or maybe it was his natural sensitivity to human interaction, but Terry somehow understood that Matt had forgiven him for his earlier betrayal.

Terry didn't know what he'd done to deserve such a reprieve. Sure he'd tried to reconcile with him once or twice, but it always ended in disaster. Yet, somehow, Matt, on his own began to warm up more and more to Terry. His taunts became far less hostile, more jovial. When Terry wanted to sit him down to show him photos of Warren, Matt volunteered without a fuss.

There was no dramatic moment, no big hug like in the vintage movies he used to watch with his parents when he was younger. Just a silent, unspoken acknowledgment of how much they both cared for, and needed each other. With all the loss he had suffered in the past, this was a much needed glimmer of hope. It was a demonstration that he did not need to lose all that was dear to him after all, in spite of his struggles and new-found crusade.

Terry now let his mind wander on to his father as Matt went off to go back to bouncing off the walls. Looking at the pictures, he let his own memories of him from that trip enter his consciousness, for the first time in almost a year…

_BB – 3, Wolf Mountain, 20 Minutes Drive from Gotham City_

The McGinnis clan finally settled down after getting to safety. The hornets were far away, and Terry could finally attend to his many wounds. He refused Warren's offer of assistance with a great deal of annoyance,

"I can do it myself, Dad! You should know, you taught me!"

Warren smiled, his concern morphing into pride,

"I know, Terry, I know. I'm just worried is all, it's what father's do. But you're a regular expert, now, so I'll just let you be", Warren said as he laid back on a rock.

Terry had indeed become quite adept at fist aid. Not content with the basics Warren had taught him, Terry managed to cajole his father into teaching him everything he knew on the subject, to the point that Terry could now pretty much do it on his own most of the time. Slowly, painfully, he dressed and bandaged the sting points. He then laid his head down to rest.

Terry then let himself take in the scenery. It was so beautiful up here, a far more peaceful kind of nature than the urban jungle one could expect back at Gotham. Trees and greenery meshed beautifully. Terry couldn't have painted a better, more serene picture. It was a wonder they didn't come to areas like this more often.

Of course they did, Terry reminded himself, or at least they used to. It's just that Dad was so busy lately with work that he never had time to go out with them. Worse, it was getting to the point that he and Matt went on outings either with his Dad (to nature reserves or science exhibits) or his Mom (the art galleries or the planetarium), but never with both. Terry preferred not to think about that right now. He just wanted to let himself get away from it all in the mass of trees that surrounded him.

As the McGinnis family walked back to the car, Warren took the opportunity to try and talk to Terry about his brush with a whole nest of hornets,

"You know, you'd have less need for your first-aid skills if you'd just pay attention to where you're going more often"

"I'm fine, Dad!"

"I know, son, I know, but there are worse things than hornet's nests out there, and if you're not careful…"

"I'll be fine!", Terry yelled "will you please stop nagging me?"

Warren looked down and continued,

"You know, you remind me of myself when I was your age. I thought I was invincible; nothing could hurt me. Heck, I used to climb cliffs as high as this mountain! But later, unh," Warren said as he struggled to get over a log, "during university, I started to realize just how fragile life really is…you need to learn to cherish these moments and appreciate them while they last…"

_BB + 8 months, post-"Revenant", McGinnis Apartment_

At the time, Terry was too annoyed at Warren's nagging and his increasing absenteeism to heed his father's advice. Tears flowed from Terry's eyes as he thought of how much he took his father's existence for granted. He'd just always be there, he thought, what difference would it make if he broke out of solitary for one night?

Terry awoke from his flashbacks and started to rearrange the photos to put them back into the unpacked boxes of his Dad's stuff in the corner of the living room. After putting them back, Terry decided out of curiosity to see what else his father had left. There were some old pictures of him and his friends in the Scouts, as well as the collections of _National Geographic _and _Scientific American_ Terry read through but a year ago. He could still see the folds in corners of the many pages he'd read.

Then he saw it. Terry carefully lifted the tome from the disorganized pile of items in the box. The last time he saw this, God, it was like a lifetime ago…

_BB – 4, McGinnis Home_

"It's no use, I'll never get it!", Terry yelled out in frustration. Moving from that to hopelessness, he sighed, "Maybe I'm just no good. I'm a hopeless loser", he said, burying his face in his hands.

Warren looked at his son, deeply concerned. Terry had done well enough in school up until now, always ending up in the upper half of his class. His grades were often uneven, excelling in areas he found interesting, barely passing in those he found boring. Until recently, Terry had taken it in stride, and so did his parents, to a certain extent.

But now Terry was entering teenager-hood, with all its attendant emotional outbursts and constant impatience. Worse, Terry was falling behind in the areas he liked and he was beginning to come close to despairing completely. He could see the beginnings of a deep sense of self-loathing creeping in on Terry's demeanor, which only grew worse the harder his learning got.

Warren had seen things like this before. During his own time in high school, a number of his fellow students, due to learning issues or just lack of interest, gradually became convinced that their lack of academic achievement doomed them to worthlessness, a life as one of the dregs of society. Depression, outbursts and anti-social behavior were often the result. Sometimes they ended their own life.

Warren was determined to prevent Terry from suffering the same fate. Still, nothing seemed to work. Warren had tried repeatedly to encourage Terry through a combination of rewards and cajoling, but it didn't help. He felt out of ideas, but he was equally determined not to give up.

Today, he decided to take a different approach. It was risky and unconventional – two traits that were usually out of character for Warren. It went against the teaching his parents gave him, as well as his general upbringing. But this was his son's emotional well-being on the line, here; conventionality could go to hell.

"You know, Terry, maybe you don't have to do well in every subject. Maybe you can just be an expert in things that interest you."

"Yeah, like what?", Terry asked sarcastically, not lifting his head, "Screwing up?".

"Terry, you-"

He was going to say you're being too hard on yourself, but went in another direction instead.

"No. Observation, for instance."

Terry lifted his head, if only out of confusion, "What?"

"You have exceptional observational skills. I still remember how you noticed every detail of superhero lore, down to the last, seemingly insignificant detail. That's another thing – you also memorized it all. That's not to mention how quickly you learn things you need or want to know, like how to put things together or ride a bike. 'Screw-ups' don't have those skills, Terry"

"What good is that if I keep doing worse and worse in school?"

Now, Warren broke the mold completely.

"Terry, maybe the problem is your calling isn't taught at school. Maybe you'll end up doing something that doesn't necessarily require a diploma. A mind like yours could be used for other things. Maybe you'll become a great artist or a designer, or maybe something else completely…Who knows? Maybe you'll become a tech expert with all that time you spend on the computer…"

Terry looked at him, puzzled. After bashing his head against a proverbial brick wall for months, Warren was suggesting they bypass it completely. It took Terry completely off guard.

"But what good does that do…my average…"

Warren chuckled. He remembered how much he had fretted over averages and grades. But he had a ready response to that, too.

"You know, Terry, when I was your age, my favorite hero was Sherlock Holmes"

"Sherlock who?"

"Sherlock Holmes. He's the main character in a series of stories written by Arthur Conan Doyle in the nineteenth and early twentieth century. I was always fascinated by how Holmes was able to use the science and knowledge of his day to solve crimes."

"What does this have to do with me?", Terry asked.

"Well, Holmes was also only knowledgeable in very specific areas necessary for his job. He knew next to nothing about astronomy, politics and philosophy. It never bothered him because that was not his main interest nor how he made his living. It shouldn't bother you."

"Yeah, but I'm not him", Terry protested, "I'll never be that good"

"Terry, maybe you will and maybe you won't, but that's not the point. The point is you need to focus on things you like. I'm sure you'll do fine whatever you do, but doing poorly in areas that don't interest you anyway shouldn't bother you. It's probably not the direction you're headed in anyway"

"What direction is that? and **can** I be that good?"

Warren smiled deeply and put his hand on Terry's shoulder. He had succeeded in changing Terry's attitude, and more importantly instilled hope in the boy.

"Terry, you can't know that until you try. But you must never give up until you find what your calling is. You'll probably surprise yourself how well you do."

Terry smiled and continued to work on his homework.

Later that night, when he entered his bedroom to go to sleep, he noticed a book on his desk. It was a vintage, hardbound copy of _The Complete Adventures of Sherlock Holmes_. Inside the cover was a dedication:

_To my son Terry,_

_I am handing this book down to you as my father did to me, _  
_in the hope it will help you on your journey._

_Remember, it's all elementary!_

_Love,_

_Warren McGinnis_

Terry smiled as he closed the book and went to bed. Suddenly the future didn't seem so grim anymore.

_BB + 8 months, post-"Revenant", McGinnis Apartment_

Terry took the book and placed it on his desk for future reference. Maybe it would help give him ideas for his current job. He went back to the living room and stared at the boxes.

Terry wasn't naïve or given to bouts of pure nostalgia. He knew his life wasn't perfect before his father's murder. The memories that flooded his mind were a mixture of good and bad. All the same, the ability to tap those memories made him appreciate not only what he had before his death, but also after.

Terry now realized how fortunate he was, in spite of Warren's death. Bruce lost his entire family in an instant at a young age. His entire world was destroyed, and he clearly never found anything to replace it except the mission. The people in his life left when they came to that realization. Bruce barely put up with him, but now he understood – he simply could not fill the void left by that one, horrible moment of tragedy.

Terry, on the other hand, had lived long enough to grow, to learn from his father - even, he chuckled to himself, to fight with him. In spite of it all, he still had his Mom, Matt. Life was still defined for him as "Before the Murder" and "After the Murder", but the lines were not as sharp or extreme as Mr. Wayne. He had enough **living** experiences with Warren, as well as other formative periods before his murder. His break was not as complete as Bruce's. Maybe it would mean he would be less obsessed, less driven as Bruce – but it also meant he was not as thoroughly destroyed and emotionally scarred.

Terry felt the burdens he carried become just a little lighter. So maybe he really **could** be Batman without becoming Bruce – he wasn't him to begin with. A great sense of relief washed over him as he shut off the lights to go to sleep.

Now, the only question was – could he truly become Batman? Could he truly live up to that name, not only in spirit but also in skill?

Terry entered his room and picked up the hardback tome lying on his desk.

Maybe it was ol' Sherlock who had the answer.

PART V: Growing Pains

Chapter 2: Lessons Learned

_BB + 8 months, post-"Eyewitness", McGinnis Apartment_

Terry could hardly believe his good fortune. Just a day ago, he was a fugitive wanted for murder, hunted by his mentor's former protégé. Now, not only was he in the clear, but he was being taken out by his former hunter to a schway restaurant, celebrating his newly earned "student civil service medal". All in all, it was a typical Batman adventure.

Terry wasn't always so glib about such near misses. Being Batman was a real emotional and physical roller coaster, and the tension sometimes got to him. The worst experience so far, and the most sobering, had been the latest run-in with Shriek. Terry knew the risks of being Batman, knowing there was always a good chance that he wouldn't make it back. Usually, though, it was a risk. That time, it was a certainty. Terry spent hours agonizing over the horrible dilemma - how to answer a question that can not be answered. Seeing how quickly the people of Gotham were willing to throw him to the wolves didn't help any.

If nothing else, it made Terry more keenly aware of why he'd become Batman in the first place, reinforcing his determination to continue. It also made him realize who his real friends were – especially Bruce. Terry respected Bruce as a mentor and hero, even if they argued and disagreed frequently. But the recent experiences, with Shriek and now with Spellbinder, showed Bruce to be a true ally and friend. Bruce stood by him and supported him; he even offered to take his place that awful day. To gain the confidence of a suspicious man as Bruce, even going against his former partner and flame, was heartening. It helped him get through the worst of times.

Terry left his room and lifted his hand to shut off the light, sighing deeply. Terry had long since come to the realization that success in his line of work often just meant surviving to fight another battle. Terry saw the picture of his father across the room, remembering once again his reason for becoming the Dark Knight. Terry hit the switch and left the room.

He may not get much public support for what he did, but he was in it for something else. For that, survival was more than enough.

_BB + 8 months, post-"Eyewitness", Commissioner Gordon's Office, A Day Earlier_

Barbara Gordon was standing near the window, sipping a cup of coffee and staring out at Gotham city's urban heart. It was a beautiful, starlit night. She could remember her nights swinging from rooftop to rooftop, stopping evil and ensuring justice. It was all so exciting before things fell apart…

Her thoughts shifted to the present day. She felt embarrassed for having been fooled by Spellbinder. Her resentment toward Bruce and her lack of faith in Terry as anything other than another lackey combined to make her easy meat for manipulation. Looking back at the events of the past day made her wince. She'd refused to doubt herself for a second, so sure was she of her being right. Maybe Barbara had become more like Bruce than she cared to admit.

Supposedly safe in the comfort of her office, the self-doubt grew. Like a fast-growing plant, the seed planted just hours before near the old Majestic theater, Barbara realized just how close she'd been to bringing down Batman. She lost count of the number of times she and her men nearly killed him during the manhunt.

It was then Barbara realized: it happened once, it could happen again, only this time the ending would not be a good one. For the truth was she knew very little about Terry McGinnis, beyond his father's murder and his stint in Juvie. Seeing in him as little more than Bruce's errand boy, she neither trusted him nor took him seriously. The events of the past 24 hours made it clear that she could no longer afford to remain ignorant.

Looking at McGinnis' file sitting on her desk, she knew she had to take the chance. She needed to know, once and for all, whether McGinnis was just a hotheaded Robin, or something more. Her conscience demanded no less.

_BB + 8 months, post-"Eyewitness", Angelo's Restaurant_

Barbara couldn't take it anymore.

"Terry, for God's sake, chew with your mouth closed".

"Sorry", Terry said sheepishly.

The meal did not get off to a good start. Terry and Barbara had so little in common in civilian life, it was hard to make conversation. As for the other part of their lives…that was something she wanted to leave to when she succeeded in connecting with the boy.

Terry felt awkward as well, just a day ago they were hunter and prey. Now they were trying to "make up". He tried to steer conversation to a safe topic…

"So what made you pick this restaurant?"

"My father and I used to come out here and celebrate when I did particularly well in school or for graduations. The food's great and there's a nice atmosphere to the place. It's one of the few places left that feels…well, human"

What she left unsaid was that it was one of the few places in Gotham, aside from her house and her office, where she felt comfortable and at ease. The rest of the city, in spite of its "cleanliness", had a cold, distant feel to it. She missed the old Gotham. Even with its dingy streets, you felt it was a place where people lived…

Terry saw Barbara let her guard down and decided to continue,

"What was he like? I mean, your father?"

Barbara took a sip of juice and replied,

"He was very dedicated to what he did, often spent most of his time in the office. But he always did his best to help and be a father to the best of his ability. He was very kind…"

Memories came back of another time, of the most influential person in her life, who had infused him with her sense of justice and mission, allowing her to don the costume and then wear the badge. She smiled.

Terry let curiosity get the better of him.

"Did he know…?"

Barbara tensed up, but decided to answer. If he was going to trust her, she was going to have to trust him.

"He never said as much, but I think he knew. He once hinted as much to me."

The conversation lagged again, and both diners ate the main courses that were served to them – Terry had a steak; Barbara a Caesar Salad. Barbara was right, Terry thought, the food's delicious.

After finishing his dish, Terry tried to impress Barbara by recognizing all the paintings (of course, they were reproductions) in the restaurant, from the Da Vincis to the Picassos.

"How on earth do you know this?", Barbara asked in amazement.

"Art was always a hobby for me. My Mom used to take me to the Gotham Art Museum before the divorce and take out books for me to read on the subject. Getting me out was always a fight. There was just so much to see…"

Barbara smiled and replied,

"You know she really thinks highly of you. When we spoke, she went on and on about your newfound responsibilities with "Mr. Wayne".

Terry chuckled, knowing Barbara's opinion on the matter.

"She also mentioned your grades are starting to improve. Tell me, how do you manage?", she said with a sly smile.

"I study while on patrol. I also work the hardest during study groups. Sometimes I manage to stay awake during science classes. I learned a lot about how to teach myself while with my Dad, after Juvie…"

This time it was Terry's turn to tense up. Barbara was going to say something to the effect that he would have to learn a lot more to fill Bruce's shoes. She thought the better of it, though. The purpose of this dinner was to establish trust, not drive him away.

Their desserts came, and Barbara decided to take a chance.

"Terry, I want to ask you something, and I want you to be straight with me"

"Sure", Terry said, a little confused.

"I took a closer look at your jacket. You got in quite a few fights in Juvie…"

Her tone was authoritative and even bossy, not exactly the best way to establish confidence. That flash of fury she'd seen back when she first mentioned his father was back. Either she doused the fire now or it would become an inferno.

"Terry, relax. I made a few inquiries, spoke to a Joseph Trenton, a guard down there. I know you were just defending yourself or others"

Terry relaxed but only a little.

"What do you want to know?", Terry asked, barely concealing his anger and wishing she'd change the subject.

"I've gotten a general idea of your stay from Trenton. But I wanted to hear your side…Terry, what happened down there?"

Barbara asked with the deepest of concern, something that didn't come to her easily. From what Trenton described, it was hell on earth down there, and Terry had borne its brunt.

"What's still going on now. Just without me"

Barbara looked up from her moose. Her dinner guest had undergone a sudden transformation. No longer a rude kid or a hothead, Terry's face had set into one of pain and sadness mixed with unlimited resolve and determination. He looked more like a hardened war veteran than some bright-eyed youth.

"Terry, I really want to know"

"There's no way you'd understand"

Terry was willing to work with Barbara, but he didn't believe such a hardened, straight-arrow cop would realize what life was like on the inside.

"Try me", she said with a wry smile.

Terry looked down, and decided to return the trust she'd given him by admitting her mistake. Not wanting to reveal everything, especially the details of his encounter with Mad Dog, he told her about Brady, his attempts to help him and others, his shock at having failed.

Barbara saw the seriousness in Terry's face deepen. She closed her eyes, remembering her own failure to save another kid about the same age. She was a young adult then, and still the trauma never left. Terry had to go through this at the age of 14. She felt ashamed of having underestimated just how much he'd been through, even before his father's death. It was an abrupt and harsh lesson. Trying to comfort him, she replied,

"Terry, you did what you could"

It didn't convince her when she said it to herself, and the result was the same with Terry,

"It wasn't enough", Terry said, holding back the tears, "and in case you haven't noticed, it's no better out here…But I would never deliberately take another life", he added, preempting her, "It would make me the same as the killers in the Hall, and I've fought them for too long just to become one of them"

Barbara could tell he meant every word. She took the opening Terry gave her to achieve the purpose of the meeting,

"I still don't think this is the best way to deal with it. You're going down a very dangerous path. You've got to learn more self-discipline and reign in that temper of yours if you're going to hold on to your sanity"

Barbara sighed and continued,

"But…I understand why you have to do it. In a way, you were Batman before you even met Bruce. I see that now, and I'm sure he does, too."

Terry went back to eating his moose, and Barbara concluded,

"Terry, can we agree to a truce?"

"Sure", Terry said tersely.

As they were about to leave the restaurant, Barbara began the final conversation of the evening,

"Don't expect me to use a Bat Signal any time soon"

Terry laughed. "I wouldn't dream of it"

"Take care of yourself, Terry", she said with as much concern as she could muster.

Barbara watched Terry leave to his bus station.

For the first time, she wished him success as Batman.

PART V: Growing Pains

Chapter 3: About A Boy

_BB + 9 Months, post-"King's Ransom", McGinnis Apartment, Terry's Room_

Mary McGinnis finally finished cleaning up her son's room for what felt like the millionth time. Feeling a sudden sharp pain in her lower back, she sat down on his bed, now made, to rest for a bit. You're not 18 anymore, Mary, she reminded herself as she took some deep breaths to deal with the pain.

Mary took a minute to look around her eldest son's room, shorn of the clutter. It was surprisingly spare, even spartan in its appearance. There were no posters of the latest rock stars or other cultural icons. Try though she might, she couldn't find any illicit girly picture magazines. Everything in the room was perfectly functional. Aside from the clothes that were now in his closet and the single picture of him and Warren on the bureau, you'd never know the room was even inhabited.

Mary couldn't make sense of it. When she was his age, she was the life of the party that was teenager-hood. Sure, she wasn't the Homecoming Queen, but she was certainly up there. Having an always absent ER doctor for a father and an equally overworked Mom made it both easy and emotionally satisfying to rebel. Lacking any real structure at home, she sought repeated solace in escapism, whether it was parties or clubbing.

Looking back at those times, she counted herself lucky that the only remaining scar from that period was "a harmless little tattoo". Many of her friends suffered much worse, from addiction to jail to…well, best not to go **that** far down Traumatic Memory Lane. The point was that Mary finished high school a more sober and cautious person. Escapism clearly only replaced an existing problem with a worse one.

While in Gotham University, she avoided the raunchy parties and man-children that populated so much of the campus in search of something else. That something was structure, a safe haven from the chaos of despair and broken families that surrounded her. Her friends taunted her "old-fashioned" notions of family and home, but she ignored them, preferring such notions to the swirl of entropy that by now had broken even her own family.

Warren seemed to be the answer to that prayer. He was the polar opposite of her other acquaintances – quiet, studious, responsible. He had an air of authority and kindness about him that others lacked. Theirs was a different kind of love, born not of wild nights of passion, but rather a deep desire for belonging, a mutual assurance that they would always be there for each other. It seemed to grant her the stability and safe environment she so desperately needed.

To be sure, Mary knew she made sacrifices for her dream family. There were many things she's wanted to do as a youth, from being a professional artist to traveling the world. The responsibilities of running a home gave her little time for her other dreams, so she suppressed them. For a while, it worked. But things changed, and between Warren being consumed with his work at Wayne-Powers and the constant fighting, it fell apart. Mary also knew Warren suspected her of infidelity because of Terry and Matt's physical appearance, even though he was too much of a gentleman to make such an accusation. She herself couldn't understand it. Whatever the truth, the dream was over.

Now Warren was gone, the victim of a senseless act of random violence. Mary tried to maintain what was left of that haven, running the household as smoothly as she could and earning a decent living. Still, things were not really the same, and this time things couldn't be solved with improved visitation schedules. There was an emptiness in their life that simply couldn't be filled.

All of which brought her back to Terry and the void that filled his room. She began to wonder just how much she knew her own son. For all Mary accused Warren of being emotionally distant, at least he'd tried to reach out to him, in his own way. The fact that his was the only picture in the room clearly showed that Terry cared for him very deeply.

The same could not be said for their own relationship. For the nine months they'd been back together, Mary did not succeed – no, did not even dare to try to establish such a bond. Instead she acted much like her own mother did, complaining about chores or cooking meals, but never trying to truly understand her son.

The primary reason was fear. Maybe it was the paintings she'd seen back when she and Warren were getting divorced, but something about Terry scared her. Her life was all about order; Terry's was one of chaos, of going to the edge and beyond. Much though she liked to believe that he'd gotten over that period in his life, deep down she feared the storm that ran through him once was still raging inside. Just because she couldn't find any evidence of it in his room didn't mean that it wasn't there. Rather than face the storm, she was content to maintain the status-quo rather than risk another crisis.

Keeping up this balancing act would not be possible if it weren't for all the time Terry spent working for Mr. Wayne. This both prevented potential friction between her and Terry and weighed him down with much needed responsibilities. Come to think of it, Wayne was probably doing a better job of serving as an authority figure than she was. Surely, the seasoned, world-wise tycoon Bruce Wayne would be able to teach Terry how to weather the storms he felt inside.

Mary left the room to prepare dinner. Closing the door, she thought how fortunate Terry was so fortunate to have such a good life teacher…

_BB + 9 Months, post-"King's Ransom", Tan House_

Dana Tan came back after a fun afternoon on the town with Chelsea and Co. As usual, Terry was a no-show, but by now this kind of absence was entirely routine. The truth was their relationship was almost non-existent at this point. From a serious item, they downgraded quickly to "casual" to barely being "friends with benefits".

Until recently, Dana blamed "Mr. Wayne" for all the problems she was having with Terry. After all, all the times he blew her off it was on his account, at least according to him. She was just so hurt by the sudden lack of attention and time with him, and she needed someone to pin the blame on besides Terry (not that he didn't feel her wrath, as well). Wayne made for an easy target, never talking to anyone but Terry and giving the appearance of a very demanding, aloof person.

Dana occasionally considered breaking it off for good. Lord knows, Chelsea sometimes tried to suggest she do just that. But Terry's brief, unexplained disappearance two weeks ago reminded her just how much she still cared for him. She was worried sick the whole time; a sharp reminder that as much as she resented his absences, the fear of truly losing him was much worse.

The memories of the time they had spent together, especially between Terry's time in Juvie and his father's death came flooding back that awful day. She remembered their deep emotional bond, the way they relied on each other for support. The intensity of feeling she felt with Terry was unlike anything she experienced; more difficult, yet more satisfying than anything else she did in her life, whether it was partying, practicing on the swim team or preparing for college.

With the memories came the realization that maybe there was something else going on here with Mr. Wayne. Terry had relied on her for support back when he was living with his father, but then Terry at least had him to serve as an anchor as well. She remembered the look on his face during the period after the funeral, when they went to pick up his things from the apartment. He seemed lost, almost without hope. Even she couldn't get through to him.

All of which brought her to Terry's "job". Terry was not the kind of guy to let people push him around unless he cared for them deeply, no matter how powerful they were. Maybe, Terry had found in Mr. Wayne a kind of father figure to help replace some of the loss he felt. For all she complained about Mr. Wayne, at least Terry was able to act normally when not summoned by him, something that wasn't the case before. Maybe he helped him whether the storms much like she and Warren had done before.

It didn't numb all the pain. It didn't explain what Terry was doing going for a job in the middle of the night with a storm raging. Most of all, it didn't completely compensate for the fact that she was no longer his main emotional anchor. Still, instead of making her angry, Dana now understood and even empathized with him. Now, she only hoped that Wayne was doing a good job of helping Terry.

Having come upon the answer of Terry's strange attachment, she felt content to wait for him to open up to her again. After all, time heals all wounds…

_BB + 9 Months, post-"King's Ransom", Melanie Walker's Apartment_

Melanie stood on the small porch of her one-room apartment to take in some air after a long shift. Jack was busy sleeping on the couch, snoring away. She sighed as she closed the door, relieved to have at least salvaged something from the wreckage that was once her family. After all the disasters that happened over the past few months, the knowledge that she still had her brother helped keep her going.

She closed her eyes as she breathed in the somewhat noxious air of the alley and the smell of the cup of well-made, but cheap coffee she held in her hand. It was a far cry from the five-star hotels and gourmet meals to which she'd grown accustomed as a member of the notorious Royal Flush Gang. For a long time, the dazzle of it all helped blind her to the ugly reality – that she was not a member of a real family, but rather a high-class gang. There was no real intimacy or love there, just empty avarice. Terry had helped her see that.

God, Terry, she thought as she closed her eyes again. Melanie tried unsuccessfully to hold back the tears as she thought of the first boy she'd truly loved. Sure, she'd been with boys before – her looks and sense of adventure was enough to turn any guy's head. But Terry was different. Melanie couldn't explain it, but there was something about him that set him apart from all the others. It was a kind of seriousness and depth that allowed her to really open up to him. He seemed to love her for who she was – both inside and out. The fact that he rejected her way of life somehow made him even more attractive. It made her have to make real efforts and sacrifices, something foreign to her until now.

Before she could get by and ignore her struggles, her sense of loss and emptiness with equally empty flings. Terry forced her to face them head-on, to choose between a real relationship with him and a continuance of the illusion. Before she could bear the pain and continue, but after Terry the illusion shattered completely. So she left her so-called family and never looked back.

When Melanie gave that note to Batman, she hoped Terry would see how she'd finally made the decision in favor of him. For months, she wondered whether Batman kept his promise to give Terry the note articulating her feelings for him. Until Batman returned, she told herself that maybe it was his fault Terry didn't get the note, either because he was too busy or just didn't care.

In the end, the truth was worse than both options. Terry got the note, and had clearly decided to cut her loose. It was a devastating revelation. Before, she was forced to choose between family and love. Now, she was left with nothing. With what strength she had left, she took up her savings and bailed out Jack, her last remaining link to sanity. Now, she was a different person, shorn of all illusions. All she could do was rebuild what was left of her life and hope for the best, for what it was worth.

In spite of all her anger and disappointment, Melanie still loved Terry. He had broken her heart, yes. Yet, in his own way, he saved her from being trapped inside the illusion. Whatever happened now, it would be real, thanks to Terry. Small comfort, but it was all she had left.

_BB + 9 Months, post-"King's Ransom", Outskirts of Gotham_

Terry parked the bike in the usual spot and went to the cliff watch the sunset. It was now a regular custom of his to do this, to get some time alone before the phone inevitably rang. In its own way, Terry thought, this place served his own spot for private contemplation, much like Bruce's Batcave or Superman's Fortress of Solitude.

The subject of today was Melanie. For all he tried to shrug it off, both when meeting her at the restaurant and afterward, he still felt for her. Reflecting upon how coldly he'd mentioned how "Terry McGinnis" got the note gave **him** something of a chill. It was reminiscent of the way he knew Bruce treated his many flings back in the day.

Try though he might, though, Terry could not pin the blame for this on Bruce. Ultimately, it was his decision to throw away the note, without attempting to glance at it or somehow keep it with some lame excuse. This was one personal problem he couldn't blame on his "job". He'd have to suffer the guilt and consequences of his own actions – the cheating as well as the ultimate betrayal.

So why did he let her go? He wasn't sure himself. Maybe it was that moment of embarrassment with Dana, whom he didn't really want to leave. Maybe it was the way she somehow managed to stay in the world of crime which he rejected emphatically. Whatever the truth, it was done. He could only hope Melanie could move on with her brother and get over the pain he'd caused her.

Then again, it wasn't like he was having such success with Dana. It often felt that their relationship continued out of inertia more than anything else. Sure, she was starting to be more understanding of his work with Mr. Wayne, but that was small improvement over the previous situation. There was little left of the warmth they shared before Dad was murdered. Terry started to feel that being Batman was a curse, a hex against having a meaningful relationship with someone.

He could at least take comfort in his increasing success on the job. All the hard work and training was paying off. Even Bruce was giving him compliments in between the put-downs. Between beating Curare single-handedly, his undercover skills in getting Ace back and his increasing knowledge of such subjects as chemistry, Terry was starting to feel more his own man and less Bruce's lackey. He was truly becoming Batman in his own right.

Still, something didn't feel right. Maybe it was all the time he spent with someone as obsessive as Bruce, or maybe it was the rash of tragic incidents he'd gone through before Batman. Terry could sense it, as real as the smell of the Gotham River. Something was coming, and the sunset, instead of calming him down for the mission, filled him with a sense of dread. Terry steeled himself, ready to face any challenge.

The call came.

Bring it on, Terry thought.

PART V: Growing Pains

Chapter 4: Crisis

_BB + 10 Months, RotJ Timeline, Wayne Manor_

For the first time in over twenty years, Bruce Wayne was in a relatively good mood. His rivals for dominance at the company, Powers Sr. and Jr. were ruined. There was still Price, but he could be handled. Bruce was once again in full control of his company, and tomorrow he would take the helm. In spite of his advanced age, he felt re-energized. He'd been given a new lease on life, and he intended to make the most of it.

None of this would have been possible if it weren't for Terry. Bruce smirked as he thought of the new Batman, now out on patrol in Gotham. He'd come a long way from the impulsive teen who'd swiped the suit ten months ago. Sure, he'd started later than his other partners, but Terry hit the ground running and never stopped. Training both at the cave and on the job had turned him into an increasingly skilled and versatile crime fighter.

Bruce often watched recordings of Terry's vid-link (done without his knowledge, of course) to see what he needed to work on during training. His progress was encouraging. His latest fight with Inque, even though it ended badly, showed Terry could at least hold his own against her. It was now getting to the point that Bruce felt Terry could handle himself alone; barring any need for detective work or a particularly dangerous opponent.

Not that it was all smooth sailing. Terry was still very impulsive, and he often spent too much time taunting his targets. Though he was quite a skilled fighter by now, he still lacked the technique and finesse he'd need to defeat the toughest of opponents. That was to say nothing of his still slipshod detective work, though Bruce was more than willing to step in to "assist" in that department. All in all, though, things looked good for Batman.

_BB + 10 Months, RotJ Timeline, Gotham City_

Terry got into the Batmobile, proud of his successful break up of the robbery, massive property damage and all. Now it was time to head back home – home in this case being a dank cave for a debriefing with Wayne. Maybe Bruce could explain why a common Jokerz street gang was suddenly conducting high-tech thefts. Another mystery was how he was going to last more than two seconds on the dance floor with Dana tonight. He doubted Bruce could solve that one.

Terry sighed. He thought summer vacation would mean he'd have more time for a social life, but Bruce had other ideas. During the school year, Terry spent an hour and a half in the early morning (between 5:00 and 6:30 AM to be exact) training in the cave. Now it was more like three to four hours of the most intensive physical tests he'd ever endured. The suit barely took the edge off. Still, he could feel his instincts were now much more finely tuned. His skills were improving, and between defeating Curare singlehandedly and figuring out how to defeat the Repeller, Terry was feeling more like his own man and less Bruce's lackey.

Not that Terry didn't appreciate what Bruce had given him - quite the contrary. Every day that went by drew him further away from the destiny Mad Dog had predicted for him. Every criminal he stopped, every innocent he saved helped soften the intense feelings of self-loathing he'd carried with him for so long. As long as he could put on the mask, Terry felt confident that he would be able to go another path. He just wanted Bruce to see he could do it, too. No doubt the increasing amount of time Terry went it alone was a sign of confidence on Bruce's part. Terry hoped there be more where that came from.

_BB + 10 Months, RotJ Timeline, Outside GCPD Headquarters, 2 Days Later_

Terry got on his bike after a fruitless talk with Barbara. He needed to talk with Bruce, but more importantly, he needed the wind at his back again, to clear his head so he could think. Right turn here.

Terry had nothing but questions. Who was this Joker? Was he the real deal or some kind of impostor/clone? Even more importantly, what did this guy do to spook Barbara and Bruce so badly? Why weren't they talking to him? OK, left at the next light.

Terry had spent the most of the past year trying to get in the confidence of these two hard cases, and he'd liked to think he'd made a dent in their armor. Now they were stonewalling him completely, as though he were a total stranger. He didn't understand it – sure maybe the Joker was a bigger bad guy than he'd thought, but he knew about all of Bruce's other rogues, and they didn't elicit anywhere near this reaction from him. Made the exit, for once.

Bruce was holding back something about him, Terry knew. It wasn't just that he was clearly his worst foe. Something happened years ago between the two of them that traumatized him so much he wouldn't even share it with his junior partner (himself). Terry wanted, needed to know, if only to get Bruce back to his senses so they could stop this guy. Hey, watch the road buddy!

Nearing the mansion, Terry parked the bike at the gate. He was ready for the truth, whatever it was. He'd shared his secrets, his darkest fears with Bruce. Terry was more than willing to share whatever burden Bruce was carrying. He owed him that much, if not more, for restoring his faith in himself. There could be no secrets between Batmen.

_BB + 10 Months, RotJ Timeline, Batcave_

Bruce Wayne was a man used to dealing with trauma, after a fashion. From the night of his parents' murder to the present day, he'd developed many techniques for easing, repressing or sublimating the many painful memories he'd accrued. It wasn't enough to make them go away, but it made him healthy enough to be able to conduct his mission. He was aided in this by those he'd let into his world – Alfred, Dick, Barbara and Tim. They helped keep him sane. More than that, they helped keep him human. Without them, Bruce might well have fallen into the abyss, instead of walking its edge.

In return, Bruce watched over them. Like an overprotective father, he tried - through training, subordination and other methods to make sure they would not come to harm. He let them be at his side, but if push came to shove, he would take the lead, even shove them aside. He wanted to believe that, ultimately, he was the one taking the real risks, while they were just there for support. It was his war, and only he should have to suffer for it.

For years, it worked, despite some close calls. Then "Tim's night" happened, and Bruce learned, in the most horrible fashion, how his belief that he could protect those in his world was a cruel illusion. Seeing a broken Tim crying helplessly broke him. For the weeks following the incident, the feelings of guilt for having destroyed another for his war swamped his dreams, pervaded his thoughts. His crusade was that of a traumatized child, and irony of ironies, it resulted in yet another one.

Before, he allowed himself the company of others. Now, he did everything he could to distance himself from those remaining. He cut himself off from Barbara, and though Alfred tried to console him, it was no use. Once he was gone, Bruce was beholden to no one, and he intended to keep it that way. He would die alone in his crusade. Before, that felt like a noble sentiment. Now, it was merely a fitting punishment for what he'd allowed to happen.

Now, HE was back again. Whether he was an impostor or some warped version of the real thing made no difference. His return once again shattered his illusions. Before, Bruce deluded himself that he could once again be Batman, by working with Terry. Training and advice, as well as the suit, would keep him, the guy in the field, from harm. When needed, he even intervened himself, such as when Terry got lost in the subway tunnels.

But now he was terrified that history was about to repeat itself. Bruce couldn't protect Tim from the Joker when he was at his mental and physical prime, how could he do so for Terry in his present state?

The thought of destroying yet another person on the altar of his war was too much to bear. He knew what he had to do.

Terry entered a few minutes later, trying to get Bruce to explain what was going on. He treated the Joker with utmost seriousness. He even thought the "secret" was that the Joker forced Bruce to violate his cardinal rule. If only it was so simple, Bruce thought. Wayne could detect the undertone of Terry's voice: Please, Bruce, let me in. I'm a part of this. That's precisely what I can't let happen, he thought as he dropped the bombshell.

Terry couldn't believe it. Bruce wanted him to give up being Batman. Terry argued with him, and even though his mouth formed the necessary words, he still couldn't believe he needed to do this. Bruce was one of only two people whom he told about Mad Dog. He knew about his struggle with the darkness inside him. Above all, he knew it was his decision to become Batman, that Bruce never forced him. So why?

Finishing his short speech, Terry thought that would be enough. Then Bruce retorted:

_[ROTJ Quote] Bruce: Stupid kid...you don't know what you want. None of you ever did..._

Coming from Bruce, of all people, it hurt worse than when his Mom disowned him or when Dad called him a punk. The one person he thought understood him. The one person he thought was his ally, his friend. Disgusted and betrayed, Terry threw down the bag with the suit and left the mansion, cursing the day he'd ever heard of Batman.

Bruce looked down at the discarded bag and closed his eyes.

Better that he hate me for the rest of his life, than let him come to harm.

_BB + 10 Months, RotJ Timeline, McGinnis Apartment_

_McGinnis...Oh, McGinnis...hahahahahahahahahaha_

_Terry found himself running through the void once again, the voices growing louder the faster he ran..._

_Worthless punk...help...me...why weren't you there, Terry?...you have so much potential with us, McGinnis...I won't let him grow up like you...Stupid kid..._

_Terry stopped running. The void shed itself to form the graveyard, with Brady and Dad's tombstones facing him. Between them was his tormentor, his mirror image._

_"So, I guess it's back to square one, eh, Terry?", his doppelganger taunted._

_Terry looked down for his shield, but it was gone – the suit, the mask, the emblem were nowhere to be seen. Bruce was not there to show him the way. He was completely helpless._

_"It's over, Terry. You had your fun playing hero, and now it's time to face reality."_

_"No, I AM a hero. I AM Batman, suit or no suit! I lost count of the number of people I saved and crooks I put away!"_

_"Really", his opposite number laughed, "then tell me, how is it the REAL Batman thinks you're just a clueless, stupid kid? Maybe he just let you THINK you're a hero so you'd help him fight his battles. Deep down, he thinks you're a punk just like everyone else"_

_Terry couldn't think of an immediate response, but he refused to believe what he'd just heard. Every fiber in his being resisted it._

_"No, that can't be true! I'm not the punk I was in Juvie! I've changed!", Terry yelled as he took a swing at the image. He missed and fell to the ground._

_"Face it, Terry, you lost. How much longer do you think you can fight me off without that suit. A month? A year? Why waste the energy? We both know destroying lives is all you're good at..."_

_Terry saw images of a dead Brady, and then flashed forward to his Father, prostrate and lifeless, dead because he wanted to go have fun..._

_No..._

Terry awoke with a start, sweat running down his whole body. He hadn't felt this bad since his Dad died. He checked the clock – 7 AM. Well, no use trying to go back to sleep.

Terry sat up with his head hanging low. He didn't know what he was going to do now. Dad was gone. Bruce, for the second time, abandoned him. But Terry refused to give up. Deep down, he knew he had to keep fighting. He had to believe that he could change, suit or no suit. He had to believe it, in spite of everything. The alternative was not an option.

Still, he needed help. With Dad gone and Bruce out of the picture, there was only one other person he could turn too. He could still remember her support for him in spite of everything, back when his own father seemingly rejected him. He remembered that deep, unrelenting faith in him. She would never give up on him. Terry cringed at how he'd shunted her aside these past months, even if it was necessary for her safety. Now he only hoped Dana would take him back, to provide that anchor he so desperately needed, even more than he did back at Juvie. It was all he had left.

As for Bruce, he could handle himself.

_BB + 10 Months, RotJ Timeline, Batcave_

The Joker had come and gone. His parting words were:

_Don't worry, I took care of your monkey boy, too._

Bruce struggled desperately to resist the Joker toxin, holding his breath as long as he could, taking short breaths and repeating the process. Slowly, the Joker's taunt sank in, and Bruce wondered whether he should bother to continue struggling. For one thing, no one was coming to the rescue. More importantly, the thought that Terry was dead because of him horrified him worse than the thought of dying by Joker toxin. Images of the traumatic memories – of Tim, of Terry, flooded him. Maybe he deserved to die for what he'd let happen. Maybe it was time to let go.

While contemplating whether to keep fighting, he heard Terry over the phone:

_[ROTJ Quote] Terry: ...Joker's little playmates were after ME tonight, ME, not Batman! This whole thing stinks, Wayne, and you know why! I need some straight answers from you...Wait, it's night. Where does he go?_

Suddenly all thought of surrender left his mind, in their place came a single-minded determination to hold on and keep struggling.

Damn it, hurry up, McGinnis.

_BB + 10 Months, RotJ Timeline, Gotham City_

The incident with the Jokerz at the club was the last straw. Terry wanted answers, even if he had to force them out of Bruce. He didn't care what insults he got from him. He and Dana and possibly his family were targets, and this was no time for self-pity. With this knowledge came clarity of purpose – stop the Joker, whatever it took. Nothing was going to stop him, not even Bruce.

Then he saw the broken gate, and his stomach started to sink. Going through the busted door and seeing a wounded Ace made it worse. Then he saw the smashed grandfather clock, and his heart started to race. Images of police cars and paramedics swirled through his head as he raced down the stairs to the cave. No. Please God, not again.

Then he saw it. The cave was defaced with HAHA's and the cases were smashed. On the computer lay Bruce, prostrate, motionless and possibly lifeless. He was too late. The horrifying memories of finding his own father in a similar position came back, giving him a horrifying sense of deja vu.

Back to square one, indeed.

PART V: Growing Pains

Chapter 5: Dare to Change

_BB + 10 months, ROTJ timeline, Wayne Manor, living room, second floor_

It was strange. Everything that happened before – the fight with Bruce and the Jokerz, the defaced cave - it all seemed to point to a repeat performance of last year. He could already see himself at yet another funeral, going through the same meaningless motions. It would be just another milestone on the road to hell.

Except that it didn't turn out that way. Call it God, fate or good fortune, but for some reason the road to hell seemed to take a sudden detour. Terry made it in time, overcoming his shock and delivering the antidote before Bruce gave out. He could still remember his relief at hearing Bruce breathe, that first aid training finally coming in handy.

While he waited for Barbara, he checked Bruce's breathing and heart rate regularly to make sure he was out of the danger zone. Terry's back gave him trouble at the beginning of his vigil – even with the fireman's carry, getting Bruce out of the cave was difficult. Note to self: start bulking up – the suit can help you only so much. Also, get more advanced training in emergency medicine.

Terry barely noticed how quickly and naturally he'd re-assumed the mantle of Batman, already thinking about things he needed to learn, leads he needed to follow up. It was as if the fight between Bruce and him never took place; it was as if he'd never crushed his confidence and betrayed his trust.

He couldn't fully explain why he felt this way. It just felt like this was where he needed to be, where he belonged. Making it in time to save Bruce reminded him what his needing to be Batman was all about - redemption. He was out not just to save others, but to save himself from the darkness within.

Rescuing Bruce felt like a sign, a late corrective to his failure to protect his father. He was being given another chance to extricate himself, and he intended to take it. Stripped before of his defenses against the nightmares, Terry had no intention of relinquishing the suit again, no matter what Bruce said. He didn't ask his permission when he went after Powers; he would not do so now.

He needed to find out what happened between the Joker and Bruce all those years ago. It was his best chance of finding him and stopping him for good.

Terry listened attentively to Barbara's recollection of the night the Joker was killed and Tim Drake ruined. As the horror of that night seeped in, Terry looked at Bruce with a compassionate eye. So, **that** was why you "fired" me. You didn't want me to end up like him.

Except that far from deterring Terry from going after the Joker, it made him even more determined to take him down. Bruce may have tried to protect Terry, but the underlying assumption that Terry couldn't handle the Joker still grated.

He was no tag-along, no sidekick. Bruce provided advice and training, but he did all the physical heavy lifting and risk-taking. He'd defeated, or come close to defeating quite a few dangerous monsters over the past several months. That the Joker was a particularly cruel and sadistic one only made Terry feel contempt and disgust, not fear.

Above all, Terry's rebuke to Bruce all those months ago came back to strengthen his resolve. Somebody had to do something. Bruce was out of commission and Barbara was clearly not able to handle things on her own. He had 10 months of experience and training, as well as the suit and the Batmobile. Bruce may not think it was enough. Terry wasn't sure himself whether he could do it. Nevertheless, it would have to do.

Terry took one last look at Bruce before suiting up. He would have words with him later about his lack of faith in him, perhaps to convince himself as much as Bruce.

All that could wait, though. Right now, he had a job to do.

Bruce finally got up in the early evening, Barbara having informed Bruce that she told Terry about "Tim's night". She also said he'd gone after the Joker. Bruce, angry at first, calmed down, sinking into a sense of resignation as he bid her goodbye.

Sitting on the couch/bed, Bruce wondered how to handle the situation. It felt like the day Terry swiped the suit; ignoring Bruce's verbal and physical blows to take up being Batman. God, that kid was stubborn. Anger mixed with concern for Terry's welfare flowed through Bruce while he secretly started to mourn what would soon be the second victim of his crusade.

Except...except this time Bruce wondered whether he, rather than Terry, was wrong in assessing the situation. 10 months ago, Terry stole the suit on impulse, without training or preparation of any kind, a prisoner of his vengeful emotions. This time, it was different. Terry made the decision to don the suit and go after the Joker **after** learning just how dangerous he was. This was a calculated decision, made by someone clearly willing to risk his life - not because of some starry-eyed heroism or impulse, but because it was what needed to be done, no matter what the cost.

Ever since Terry crashed into his property, Bruce saw him as an ally in a war solely his. Perhaps Terry did more than the Robins or Barbara ever did in terms of risk-taking, but at the end of the day it was Bruce's fight. Terry merely helped, or so Bruce thought.

Now Bruce wondered whether it was also the other way around. Terry had been fighting against the apathy and lawlessness in Gotham before he even met Bruce. He stubbornly clung to the mantle, taking every opportunity to prove he wasn't just some kid in a high-powered suit, ever determined to prove he could do it on his own. Even after incidents when death seemed certain, such as the "Babel incident", Terry stayed on to keep up the fight. Going over Terry's past history from the beginning, Bruce realized that Terry was fighting his own war, one in which Batman served as the ultimate weapon, much as it had served Bruce in that capacity, albeit differently.

Now, Bruce understood. All that self-loathing - the grief over the incident with Brady, the unrealistic guilt over his father (did he really think he could stop a hit man?) and the constant doubts added up to something. Bruce, by taking on the visage of a monster, used the Batman to scare his parent's killer through other criminals. Terry used Batman to scare and defeat the monster, the worthless human being he saw inside of himself. Terry wasn't helping Bruce fight his war - they were helping each other, partners in a struggle linked by Batman.

Bruce went to the cave to hear Terry beating himself up for not being able to find the Joker, going on about how a true Batman would have found everything out by now. Now determined, more than ever, to reforge their bond, Bruce nipped this foolishness in the bud:

_[ROTJ Quote] Bruce: It's rarely that simple..._

Bruce hoped Terry understood the underlying point. My world - correction, our world - is chaotic, dangerous and uncertain. Others may believe that I was invincible, but you know better, now that you know what happened to Tim. Out there, people think of Batman as a fantasy. Here, we deal with reality.

Terry started to argue against his comparing him to Robin. Bruce barely resisted, because he **wanted** him to prove him wrong. The more Terry argued with Bruce, the more he fought to establish himself, the more successfully he fought his own lack of self-worth. Bruce understood that now, and so let Terry have the floor. Terry restored Bruce's faith not only in him, but in himself. Now they could go after the Joker as one.

_BB + 10 months, ROTJ timeline, Jolly Jack Building, 10:00 PM_

Terry lay helpless on the floor from the electrical cuff. The Joker was jubilant, taunting both Terry and Bruce as the ultimate victor. It felt like "Tim's night" all over again, when the Joker told him point blank that "he'd lost". Bruce steeled himself for the worst.

Except it never came to pass. Terry managed to get free with the help of Ace. Then he succeeded, albeit by accident, to force the satellite beam to head towards the building. Satisfied that the beam was going to shut down, Terry tried to take in the Joker. The latter easily knocked him down, continuing his taunts.

_[ROTJ Quote] Joker: You? What's to know? You're a punk, a rank amateur, a costumed errand boy taking orders from a senile old man..._

You're about to learn how wrong you are, Terry thought, as he destroyed the Joker's escape route. After getting the worst of a fist fight with him, Terry quickly broke it off, looking for another way to beat him. Bruce suggested he block out the Joker's taunts, but Terry quickly hit on another route. Let's see how he likes a taste of his own medicine...

First provoking him with a low blow, Terry let loose, piling insult on put-down, letting his contempt for the Joker reach full expression. In the dark, literally, as to Terry's location and desperate to escape the beam, the Joker became visibly more agitated. Blow after verbal blow punctured his bloated ego and increased his rage. Terry's laughing AT him, calling him "pathetic" and worse than a "rodeo clown" was the last straw. He was so angry he could barely see or think straight. The normally calm and in control monster was at his wits' end. It was the perfect mirror image of "Tim's night", when the roles were reversed.

Even when it looked like the agitated Joker might still have the upper hand, Terry wasn't done. Using the choke trick he'd used on Bonk, he got the Joker to move just a little too close. Still furious at Terry, he didn't notice his other hand until it was too late. In the end, the great Joker was done in by his own buzzer.

As he saw Terry get Tim out of the building, Bruce practically collapsed in the chair, exhausted and, uncharacteristically, on the verge of tears from the tension. It was over, he kept saying to himself, it was finally over. The nightmare had dissipated.

Terry brought a still groggy Tim to the meeting point with Barbara in a nearby alley.

"The suit diagnosed him as being stable, but he still needs to get to a hospital soon"

Barbara nodded. She had many questions, but now was not the time to ask. All she needed to know was what Terry told her: the Joker was gone – for good, this time.

After Tim was safely in her car, Terry got ready to take off for some much needed rest. Barbara caught up with him,

"Wait...I didn't get a chance to thank you...Batman"

Terry smiled, accepting the subtle compliment, and headed off into the night.

_BB + 10 months, ROTJ timeline, Gotham General Hospital_

Dana Tan was asleep, convalescing from her experience back at the club. Terry looked at her from across the room, preferring not to wake her. He was relieved that Dana wasn't badly hurt, but he also knew that it could have been much worse. As long as he was Batman, the risk that someone finding out his identity and hurting the ones he loved would always be there. He couldn't avoid the threat to Mom and Matt, but Dana was different.

Part of Terry wanted to break it off with Dana for good, to keep her safe. She might hate him for it, but better that than the alternative. But if the past week taught him anything, it was how unstable and chaotic the world of Batman really was, and how important it was to hold on to those who cared for him to stay sane. Bruce might have let him back in, but Terry was doubly resolved not to end up like him, cut off from Tim, Barbara and Dick. He needed Dana, his anchor, his angel, to keep him from ending up like his mentor.

But how? Should he tell her about his double life? And how could he live with himself if something happened to her like it happened to Tim? Bruce made the choice between Batman and his other life, how could Terry hold on to both?

Terry didn't have any answers, just questions. Par for the course in his line of work.

Bruce got out of the parking lot and into the building. Strangely, he felt more terrified than during some of his worst battles. His hands trembled. All his life, Batman was a way of revisiting and trying to reverse an unchanging, unforgiving past. Whenever there were casualties along the way, Bruce often dealt with them as he did his thoughts – they became part of the cruel past. He had long since lost faith in his ability to alter it.

Terry changed that, as he had changed his outlook on the fate of Batman. Terry was not out to change the past, which was impossible, but to improve the present. In his stubborn determination not to accept reality as it was, Terry convinced Bruce that he had to fix what he could – in this case, his relationship with Barbara, and more importantly, Tim. Bruce, having never done such a thing before, now knew that it was possible, thanks to his protege. Terry had restored his faith.

Bruce wondered how he could repay him for such a gift. Thinking hard in the elevator, it suddenly came to him. He would tell him the one thing he could never tell himself, in spite of – or was it because of? – his many exploits as Batman. Maybe he couldn't hear it, but maybe Terry could. He hoped it would help Terry in his own war against the darkness.

Terry left Tim's room, surprised to see Bruce coming towards it. Bruce, after some hesitation, let it out:

_[ROTJ Quote] Bruce: ...you were wrong. It's not Batman that makes you worthwhile, it's the other way around. Never tell yourself anything different._

Terry suddenly felt warm inside. He felt...complete, as though a great missing piece of him was now in place. Seeing Bruce, of all people, go inside the hospital room to reconcile with Barbara and Tim, filled him with hope. If even the old man could let people back in, maybe he could do it with Dana. Maybe...

_BB + 10 months, ROTJ timeline, Gotham City, early evening_

He stood on a rooftop, looking out at his city, mask in hand. He knew there were still many things to learn and skills to master. But now his vantage point was different. He looked at the future not only with uncertainty but also with confidence.

For Bruce Wayne had given him a gift just as valuable as the right to wear the mask. It was the gift of knowledge – the knowledge that he was Terry McGinnis, hero, Batman – in that order.

He wouldn't have it any other way.

END: PART V: Growing Pains


	6. Chapter 6

PART VI: Maturation

Chapter 1: Towards an Uncertain Future

_[I have to say I'm more than a little scared right now, as I'm going to be writing sans canon material in a few chapters. I get an odd feeling now that I'm soon to be on my own. It is a feeling of independence that is both exciting and terrifying - no doubt similar, in its own way, to what Terry will be going through from here on in. Anyway, I hope those who have kept up until now will bear with me as I enter uncharted territory..._

_P.S. The scene at the Tan house is partially based on the one-shot fanfic "Terry" _s/4399350/1/Terry_, though as always, I see things in a somewhat different light..._

_P.P.S. I have greatly benefited from the storyline suggestions made in the past. If anyone has any suggestions like those of tNC, I'm open, though I can't promise I'll be able to put them in]_

_BB + 15 years, post-"Epilogue", Gotham City, early afternoon_

Terry returned to Gotham after his rendezvous with Superman in Metropolis. It wasn't anything out of the ordinary, really – a couple of powerful weapons had gone missing from military research centers across the country, and the thefts seemed to be the work of the Iniquity Collective. Terry helped Kent review the evidence and succeeded in figuring out where the next heist was likely to take place – the Gotham City Military R&D center just off of Hill Square. Superman promised to dispatch Hawkman, Green Lantern and Aquagirl (the others were on missions elsewhere) to "help" Terry capture the Collective when they went after it the next evening. It was just another average day in the life of Batman.

Of course, this "average day" came on the heels of one of the most difficult days in Terry's life, a critical fork in the road, where any choice was irreversible. In the end, his decision included both change – his decision to marry Dana, and continuity – the decision to remain Batman. That was another constant in Batman's life – irreconcilable contradictions.

Terry needed only to think of Bruce to remind himself how much things both changed and stayed the same in the world of Batman. On the one hand, Bruce was still the same old hard case, rarely smiling and still thinking he could not only take care of himself, but also Terry (15 years, and he still didn't know how to make anything other than that damned pea soup…). On the other hand, Bruce had now fully accepted Terry as Batman, and Terry was fully independent, as himself as well as Batman.

Then again, there was the fact that he now had "two fathers", but then again, that was the case before he took the DNA test…Terry's head hurt. He'd have time to absorb all that he'd gone through another time. Right now, he just needed some sleep. He entered the house he'd had built near the spot outside Gotham and got ready to hit the sack.

How did that "serenity prayer" go? Oh, yeah.

"God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference."

Important advice for most people; necessary for survival in the world of Batman…

_BB + 11 Months, Batcave, early afternoon_

Terry closed what must have been the 500th file of Batman's roughly 40-year career he'd read in the past month. 500th? It felt more like the millionth. Still, he pressed on, learning more and more about Bruce's past associates, both good and bad. Reading through the files, he made every effort to learn as much as possible from his mentor's experiences. Terry chuckled to himself as he thought about how much time he was spending studying. He'd likely clocked more study hours in the cave than in the past two years at school.

Still, it was a daunting task. Bruce, like any good obsessive, kept a record of literally everything he'd ever done, seen, read or heard of. Terry doubted whether he could memorize all the information in the computer if he had Bruce's brain and three lifetimes. The long hours spent in front of the Batcomputer were a real chore, sometimes more exhausting than his time out on patrol.

Terry often had to remind himself exactly why he was subjecting himself to this. There were two reasons, really. The first had to do with the Joker incident. Simply put, Terry was no longer willing to let Bruce keep secrets from him. The latest incident had nearly cost them both dearly, and Terry wasn't going to risk a repeat performance. If Bruce wouldn't share more with Terry, then he'd just have to get the information at the source, even if it meant spending close to four hours a day in front of the Batcomputer.

The second reason was more subtle, one which Terry understood instinctively even if he couldn't fully explain it. Up until now, Terry followed Bruce's lead, letting him decide when and how to train him, what to tell him about his world and so forth. Terry might have disobeyed him here and there, but ultimately Bruce called the shots.

Now, Terry felt ready to take things to the next level. This wasn't an occasional burst of independence like before, exploding like a bomb and dissipating just as quickly, but rather a deep-seated need to grow and evolve. In their meeting at the hospital just a month ago, Bruce had taught him the true meaning of self-confidence and worth. Now, that lesson reinforced Terry, giving him the resolve to start making the awkward, but necessary steps to truly becoming not only his own man, but also his own Batman.

Still, it was scary as hell. It was one thing to talk of independence. Actually taking it, with all its attending risks, was something else entirely. Bruce's guiding hand might be as heavy as a 250-lb weight, but at least it was also there to reassure and strengthen. Letting go, even if only so that he could stand beside him as an equal, was a step he wasn't sure he'd be able to make.

Terry awoke from his train of thought to continue his research. Suddenly, a file caught his eye. Opening it, he saw that it was a list of "progress reports" from his training. There were also a large amount of computer reconstructions of his fights, based on the suit's vid-link. At first Terry was livid, discovering yet another secret Bruce was hiding from him. Before, he might have stormed off to argue with Bruce about keeping him in the dark about the videos.

Upon reflection, Terry wondered whether this might be an opportunity. Now he could see and learn his mistakes for himself, instead of just through Bruce. The lure of independence overwhelmed his fear of having to directly face his own failures and shortcomings. Whatever happened, there was no turning back.

Taking a deep breath, he slowly moved the cursor to the first video and started to watch.

_BB + 11 Months, Tan House, late night_

Dana and Chelsea made it back after a long night on the town. Dana went in the house first, turning on the light. After Chelsea came in, Dana closed the door without locking it, making a mental note to do it after she'd fallen asleep.

As Chelsea crashed on the couch from exhaustion, Dana took a look at her friend of over four years. Outwardly, she was still the same outgoing, fun-loving and carefree party girl. She made every effort to maintain that appearance, and most of those who knew her bought into it.

Dana knew better. Her experience at the "ranch", especially the sensory deprivation treatment known as "ISO", shook her far more than she let on. Ever since then, Chelsea refused to be in a room that was not well lit or one that was locked. Whenever one of her many flings suggested making out in such places, she relented as though they were suggesting she enter Hell itself. That was to say nothing of her relationship with her father, or the complete lack of one. Chelsea spent most of her time at the Tan house now, brushing off any attempt to discuss her Dad, whom she held responsible for her experience.

Dana knew from her experience with Terry that certain events in life were watersheds, the kind which changed you forever. Juvie did it to Terry; time would tell if it were the same with Chelsea and the ranch. In the meantime, she tried her best to maintain the illusion of still being "normal", hoping it would eventually become true. After the usual banter about the quality of various clubs and the cute guys they met, they moved on to more serious topics,

"So", she asked, "have you thought about where you want to go for college?"

Chelsea sat herself up on the side of the couch, holding a cushion. Taking a deep breath, she looked down and replied,

"I don't know. Far away from here, that's for sure. What about you?"

"I'm leaning toward Gotham State. They have a world-class psych department, and I think that's where my calling is. There's certainly plenty of crazy characters here to study", she said half-jokingly.

Chelsea decided to take this opening to get Dana to deal with her own problems rather than try to solve Chelsea's. Maybe that would help her continue to dodge her own. Putting down the cushion, she looked her friend straight in the eye and slowly said,

"What about Terry?"

Dana started to feel a little defensive. "What about him?"

"Dana, I held back until now because you needed time to get over the incident at the club, but it's time to make a decision about him. Things can't go on the way they are now..."

Dana was taken aback. All this time, **she'd** been the one holding back, walking on eggshells to avoid hurting her friend and making her face unpleasant realities. Now she saw they were both acting thus. She responded as she'd done a thousand times before in discussions like this,

"Look, I know he's not been there enough for me before, but he's really changed now. Just yesterday, he took me out to that beautiful restaurant on the beach…"

"Dana", Chelsea interjected, "it's not that, well, not just that. I think Terry's involved in something dangerous"

"Why makes you say that?", Dana asked, confused.

"Well, for one thing there was the time he broke into the ranch to take my testimony, which almost got him killed"

"You think he's 'involved in something dangerous' just because he risked his life to help a friend?"

"Look, if it was just that, it would be one thing, but the incident at the club…Dana, that gang was gunning only for Terry. That's not like a Jokerz gang; usually those guys choose their targets at random, unless they have a reason. When I asked Terry why they were after him, I don't know, I felt like he knew more than what he would tell me."

Dana was momentarily speechless. She went from feeling defensive to feeling helpless. For months she'd lived in a state of semi-denial, allowing questions to build upon questions, hoping that Terry would eventually fill in the blanks. Now Chelsea, of all people, forced her to confront the truth face-to-face. There really were just too many unanswered questions. She said as if in a whisper,

"What…what do you think he's involved in, Chelsea?"

"I wish I knew. Maybe he's working undercover with the police. Hell, maybe he's working with Batman – he did show up soon after Terry got into the ranch. Whatever he's doing, he shouldn't be keeping it from you, Dana, not if he really cares about you like you keep saying."

Dana reverted back to her defensive, yet hopeful state of mind,

"Maybe he's just trying to protect me so I don't get hurt…"

Chelsea instinctively moved to cut her off. All talk of people making decisions for her, father or boyfriend, ended at the ranch.

"Who says he has the right to make that decision for you? And did his hiding his work from you prevent you from being hurt at that club?"

Dana rarely saw her friend so agitated, and wasn't sure how to react.

"What do you want me to do, just go up to him and demand answers?"

Chelsea wanted her to do exactly that, but looking into her friends' eyes, she wondered whether that was the best advice. Dana looked scared, uncertain of her next step.

"I don't know, maybe…Look, just promise me you'll think about it at least"

Dana sighed deeply, wishing there was a way to "forget" this conversation. Knowing there wasn't, she relented.

"I promise"

PART VI: Maturation

Chapter 2: Demons of the Present ("Out of the Past" Timeline)

_[I write this update with a great deal of ambivalence. After posting a rather spirited defense of Bruce's conduct in the past, I watched the episode again and realized to my dismay that Maxie Zeus' indictment of Bruce can't be fully gainsaid. The result of my agonizing, as well as a good point made by Disney Boy and another made by my brother (yes, I sometimes discuss my story outside the forum…) is the following chapter. Please to enjoy – aiwac]_

_BB + 15 years, pre-"Epilogue"_

Trust and respect. Important components of human relationships, they were extremely rare and valuable commodities in the world of Batman. They were the glue that held the two Batmen together. Terry trusted Bruce to guide and teach him but respect that he would grow into the position of Batman in the latter's stead, an heir apparent and not merely an errand boy. Bruce trusted Terry to respect his seniority and succeed in his goal as heir to the cowl, while he provided as much assistance as he could. It was this balance that helped Terry successfully become his own Batman. This was not a silent agreement so much as a convergence of interests, one that held for 15 years.

Now that balance was about to come apart, as Terry held up the results of the DNA test he'd ordered, his hands shaking with a rage. Much though he'd like to think so, the possibility of something like this was not a sudden bolt from the blue. It was instead the culmination of his worst fears, the seeds for which had been planted several years ago…

_BB + 11 months, a week before "Out of the Past", Batcave_

Terry was hiding behind a wall, avoiding the shots and waiting for an opening. He'd already taken out one of the synthoids, and his batarangs were in hand, released from the makeshift release devices on his wrists. He'd already missed twice, and these were his last two left. He needed to make this count. Finally, there was a lull in the shots, and Terry came out of hiding, his arm raised…

Suddenly the synthoid and the whole virtual scenario shut down, revealing the cave and an angry Bruce at the controls.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Bruce demanded angrily.

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm training without the suit, or I was until you shut it off", Terry replied.

Bruce was not amused by Terry's smart-aleck remark.

"Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

"No more than usual", Terry replied, shrugging his shoulders.

Bruce became even angrier at the constant quips.

"Terry, I'm not in the mood for jokes"

"So? You're never in the mood for jokes", Terry said as he wiped his face with a towel, "what else is new?"

Bruce narrowed his gaze, trying to reign in his increasing impatience,

"These training sequences are designed to be supervised. You're not ready to do this on your own."

Terry's demeanor, at first defensive and hostile, now became combative,

"I'm starting to wonder whether I'll ever be ready for you", Terry said.

Bruce narrowed his eyes further, and Terry continued,

"Look, you managed to beat these guys without that suit; I don't see why I shouldn't be able to do the same. Besides", Terry said, looking down in embarrassment, "I saw the tapes. I lost count of the number of times I screwed up or let my guard down"

"1,389, to be exact", Bruce replied. Terry grew ever more furious, but tried to restrain himself as he continued,

"The point is - that suit's a goddamned crutch. Even though I beat it on my own, I still rely on it too much to make up for my own mistakes. I figured it's time to drop the crutches and learn to walk on my own. You said it yourself; the suit's just an extension of me…"

"I said that?", Bruce interjected.

"My **point**" Terry said, ready to explode "is that the better I do without the suit, the better I'll do with it."

"You're not ready"

"And when exactly **will** I be ready? Damn it, just last month I beat the Joker! But that's still not enough, is it? I'll never be good enough for you, will I? After all I've done you still think you're the Batman, and I'm just some kid in a suit"

"Terry…", Bruce began, but Terry cut him off,

"I'm out of here." He said as he ran out of the cave.

_BB + 11 months, "Out of the Past" timeline, Talia's Jet_

Bruce reflected on that particular argument as he sat silently in the jet's lounge, en route to New Cuba. The subject of their debate wasn't a new one. Still, this time it struck Bruce with a particular resonance. In truth, he wondered whether the "Bat-musical" was Terry's unconscious way of getting back at him. "Let's see how you like being ridiculed" was the apparent message.

What really grated was that Terry's accusation had more than a grain of truth to it. True, Terry really DID need more training, his newfound confidence and skill notwithstanding. But Bruce would be lying to himself if he didn't admit that he sometimes still wished he were the one hitting the streets. He often thought "I would have done differently" when he critiqued Terry's vid-links, and such thoughts were not only for Terry's training. Still, Bruce believed it was irrelevant; time and nature would take its course no matter what he secretly wished for.

All that was before Talia made her offer. Now that it was even **possible** to return to his former state, the thought never left his mind. Before the offer, the incident on the Grand Street Expressway would have merely been another reminder of Bruce's fate, as well as his dependence on Terry. Coming after the offer, it served as the excuse Bruce needed to seize the opportunity he so fervently desired.

Still, he had very mixed feelings. His aged body and mind argued for what he was doing, but his still strong ethical world, the world of Batman was dead-set against. Bruce Wayne desperately wanted to go; Batman could not believe he was even considering it. Time and again Ras himself had offered him what he was about to take, and each time Batman rejected the possibility out of hand. It was immoral and selfish, an unnatural act, he argued. Yet here he was doing exactly that. Perhaps reality had ultimately decided for him, or so he told himself. After all, it was one thing to reject the offer when you're leaping off rooftops, quite another when you can't even stand without support…

Terry sat at the other end of the couch, eyeing both his mentor and Talia, wary of them both. Terry wasn't sure what to think of the former, but he was almost certain Talia did not have good intentions. Call it a gut feeling, but Terry was very suspicious of Talia. The woman's record did not inspire confidence. For one thing, there was her slavish devotion to her father, an unrepentant, genocidal monster. As far as Terry was concerned, the only difference between him and Powers was that the latter was privately honest about the nature of his actions. The fact that Ras hid behind ideals to justify his actions only made Terry add "hypocrite" to his list of titles for the man. Talia herself was no saint, and although she often helped Bruce against her father, she also did the reverse, assisting in his operations. God only knew what she had in mind for Bruce.

Talia's motives were Reason Number One Terry came along for the ride – to protect Bruce if need be. Reason Number Two was to ensure Bruce made the right decision – to avoid violating the ethical boundaries he'd so stubbornly held to throughout his career. Terry had fought hard to establish himself as Batman, and he had no intention of giving up the mantle.

Except this time Terry decided, uncharacteristically, to take the indirect approach, hoping that Bruce would reach the right conclusions on his own. In spite of his anger at Bruce's decision to take the plunge, he still cared for him very deeply. When he saw the look in Bruce's eyes betraying his helplessness, he sympathized, wondering how he would act in his shoes.

So Terry kept his thoughts to himself, willing to let Bruce enjoy his moment of "feeling young" again, and hoping he would come to his senses…

_BB + 11 months, "Out of the Past" timeline, Talia/Ras' Estate, Exercise Room_

Bruce enjoyed the energy rush; finally able to finally go back to doing all the things he was able to do back in the day. When Terry showed amazement at Bruce's prowess, it inflated his confidence even more, as all his physical energies came surging back.

Bruce lifted the barbell up and down, each time the weight becoming ever lighter. He thought of Terry, already done with his workout while he had just begun. The kid was good, but now he could see just how far he still had to go to become Batman. Bruce even saw himself back on patrol, though he hadn't decided if it was with or without Terry.

Then he saw it, a visage in the mirror, so stark he could touch it. It made him feel such instinctive disgust and fear that he threw the barbell at the mirror, smashing it to pieces, suddenly aware of what he had done…

_BB + 11 months, a week after "Out of the Past", Batcave_

Walking down the steps to the Batcave, Bruce finally let himself reconstruct the image which had so horrified him and made him leave the Pits.

It was Ras, smiling back at him, a smug look of victory on his face. What Bruce only understood instinctively then, he realized now – by dipping himself into the pits, he hadn't just come to look like the Demon. He **was** Ras, using and abusing the one person who cared for him most, the one who stood by him in his darkest hours.

If Terry had never shown up on his doorstep, it would be one thing. Bruce might somehow be able to convince himself he was committing a selfless act for the people of Gotham. With Terry in the picture, "taking the plunge" was a usurpation of the heir to the cowl, a selfish act of self-perpetuation for its own sake. It made Bruce ashamed to even think of it. Looking at Terry, busy at the Batcomputer, he cringed. He wouldn't blame him if he never really trusted him again. Bruce had come within an inch not just of betraying Terry, but betraying Batman. Silently, he swore to himself: No more "Lazarus Pits".

Coming closer to the computer, he saw an easel near the cases, a tarp covering its contents. Curious, he asked,

"Terry, what's this doing here?"

Terry turned the chair around and got up,

"It's…it's sort of a replacement birthday gift"

Bruce instinctively sneered,

"What is it? A portrait of me in a clown suit?"

"Why don't you see for yourself" Terry said as he removed the tarp, revealing a large canvas. Bruce looked stunned.

"I call it 'The Many Faces of Bruce Wayne'. It's based on drawings I made to keep focused during 'study hours'; sometimes visuals help me remember better. Anyway, I thought it might be better than…"

Terry's voice drifted off as Bruce approached the painting. It was a black and white painting of images - all from Bruce's life, all based on Terry's historical research of over a month. Different shades of light and shadow served to accentuate the many pictures. At its center was 8-year old Bruce, a bat serving as the outline and the Wayne grave at his feet. Above him, in the "sky" were his parents looking down at him.

Going from the center to the edges, Bruce was amazed. Terry seemed to have brought virtually ever major life event of Bruce's to the fore, from the "good times" such as his Justice League exploits, to the points of trauma, the scene with Brue standing over Barbara and Tim being particularly poignant. Close by was a scene that made him freeze in place. It was Bruce as he was now, an old man, seemingly helpless, pulling Terry from a Hellish-looking abyss. Bruce knew Terry held him in high regard despite their differences, but this scene conveyed his feelings in ways no words could ever express. He felt

Bruce looked down, now determined more than ever to repay that confidence and never let Terry have to mistrust him again. For Terry, he would make the ultimate sacrifice – he would permanently and irrevocably let go of his hold on Batman.

Terry watched Bruce look at the painting, unsure of what he thought of it. Soon it was time to go on patrol. Well, Terry thought as he went towards the Batmobile, at least he didn't knock it down with his cane…

"Terry", Bruce said.

"Yeah?"

"We start training tomorrow, no suit. But we're going to do it right - no shortcuts, my rules. You pull another stunt like you did two weeks ago and I'll dock you a years' allowance, got it?", he barked.

"Got it"

Terry smiled. He was used to Bruce conceding defeat by pretending there was never an argument in the first place. He got into the Batmobile, looking forward to the start of the next level of training. If only he could get rid of that nagging doubt in the back of his mind…

PART VI: Maturation

Chapter 3: Ghosts of the Past

_BB + 15 years, post-Epilogue, Wayne Manor_

Terry got to the manor at around 7:00 PM. After parking the car next to the house, he took a look back towards the gate at Ace's old stomping grounds. Sometimes, he could swear the old mutt was still on patrol, hunting for intruders. It didn't take a great leap of imagination to assume that this house, haunted by so many figurative ghosts, was literally possessed.

After locking the door, Terry went straight to Bruce's study. He could already imagine the scene - Bruce sitting at his chair, probably re-reading one of the many books in his library. For a man who posed such an enigma even to his peers, he was remarkably predictable when it came to his habits.

"OK, I brought your weekly refill of meds", he said as he went through the large doors.

Bruce barely moved, lifting his eyes from his chosen book ever so slightly.

"How did it go with the Collective?"

Terry smiled. Some things never change.

"We rounded them up after a short fight"

"Good"

Terry sat himself down to place the pills in the easy retrieval tray so Bruce could take them without difficulty from now on. It was funny – most good human relationships depended on frequent verbal communication. Terry and Bruce's bond, however, rested on a different kind of connection, one that usually didn't involve words. Besides, neither of them had any patience for small talk or false social niceties. They said what needed to be said to each other - nothing more, nothing less. Terry wouldn't have it any other way.

As Terry got up to go to the cave, the bathroom door opened, and a tall, elderly yet strikingly attractive woman emerged. Bruce started to introduce her,

"Terry, this is…"

"Helena Forrester", he interjected, "I see you on the news every now and then. You're the DA at Blüdhaven, helping to finish what Nightwing started there back in the day. You do good work."

Helena didn't miss a beat in responding,

"Thank you, Terry. I hear you also do good work as Bruce's assistant, handling his affairs and what not. I came here to discuss Wayne Enterprises' contribution to Blüdhaven's anti-crime program, but the subject kept going back to how much of a help you've been in managing his affairs."

Terry smiled as he looked at Bruce, who seemed to think this diplomatic speak to be the equivalent of the Inquisition. Still, Terry couldn't shake the feeling that she was here for something else…

"I do what I can"

Terry took some time to assess the guest. She had aged quite well, and was clearly a dedicated professional, if her neat, packed briefcase on the chair was any indication. Her facial expression gave off the air of a friendly, but somewhat aloof person. There was something else about her appearance, something he would never have thought about a few months ago…

His eyes widened as the possibility set in, and he instinctively asked,

"Are…are you related to Bruce?"

Bruce grimaced, though he was secretly proud that he had derived the fact so quickly. Helena was taken aback, though,

"How…how did you…"

"Terry, please wait in the other room. Helena and I need to speak…alone"

Terry, still absorbing his discovery, obeyed, relieved to be able to leave the room.

He took some time to control his breathing and regain his bearings. Still, it was difficult. More secrets, for God's sake? This house truly was haunted, he thought, as he leaned on his elbow against the window, trying to take in his latest discovery.

Then again, Bruce wasn't the only one who had to deal with ghosts…

_BB + 1 year to the day, Hamilton High_

It was a beautiful day – not a cloud in the sky, temperate weather; the kind of day that would be perfect for a family picnic or a romantic walk on the beach. At a time like this, however, it felt wrong in so many ways; a surreal counterpoint to the emotional atmosphere surrounding this anniversary.

School was finally over, and Terry got ready to go to his destination. He changed into the proper attire, readied himself for the moment. All the necessary arrangements were made. He'd told Mom to find a babysitter for Matt. Bruce called **him** to tell him to take the day off. The only thing he hadn't prepared for, which he couldn't prepare for, was the emotional journey.

He walked towards the motorcycle as if possessed, every limb desperately resisting doing what he knew he had to do. The weight of that day, one year and two lifetimes ago, now came within an inch of crushing him outright. There was no way to dodge it, to suppress it, or concentrate on other things such as his training. He missed him so much.

Just before Terry got on his motorcycle, he heard a familiar voice,

"Terry, wait up!"

Dana had hoped to get to Terry earlier, but her history class just dragged on and on. Every second of that class set her on edge, as she sat like a coiled spring ready to jump to freedom and her goal. When the moment finally came, she ran as fast as she could, managing to make it just in time. It was the culmination of a long process.

Dana had thought long and hard about how she would confront Terry - a casual aside in the hallway, maybe a sudden break in the conversation during one of their dates. In the end, she figured it best to do it when she knew Terry would make his pilgrimage. She didn't quite understand why, but somehow she felt that Warren's death, Terry's night-time visit to Wayne's manor a week later and his mysterious "job" were all somehow connected. It might not be the most sensitive plan, but it was the only time Terry might actually open up to her.

Whatever qualms Dana might have about this course of action were silenced by Chelsea. She was right – things couldn't go on like this. High school was ending, and Dana had had enough of this on and off relationship with no emotional intimacy and constant secrets. Either they took it to the next level, or they broke it off.

"Where are you going?", she asked, knowing the answer.

"I…"

"Mr. Wayne, again?", she asked, feigning displeasure.

"No. I'm…I'm going to visit Dad", he said, almost in a whisper.

"I'm going with you", she said as she sat herself on the back of the motorcycle seat.

"Dana, no…", he said, trying to resist.

"Forget it, McGinnis. I'm not going to back down and take it this time. Not anymore. You want me off? You'll have to push me off"

The ultimatum was delivered in a stark, determined tone that said Dana meant every word. Terry could hear the subtext: You want to drive me away? It will be your decision entirely. This not being an option, Terry relented. Resigned, he put on his helmet and started the bike.

They rode to an afternoon sun. In another context, it might have been romantic, like those old movies ending when the hero and his love rode off into the horizon. The world of Batman - more importantly, the world of Terry - was never that simple.

_BB + 1 year to the day, Gotham Central Cemetery_

They walked up to the gravesite, Terry taking the lead. The soft rustle of grass under their feet was the only real sound disturbing this somber ceremony. Dana felt like she was the one ensuring Terry's arrival at the site, a rear-guard preventing retreat. That look in his eyes…he seemed so lost, so unsure of himself. His moving pupils showed him lost in thought, as though he were trying to make his mind up about something.

Was this what she wanted? To forever pry secrets loose from him? To always be unsure of his intentions? She didn't know the answer, yet she felt irresistibly pulled in by the same force that seemed to pull Terry – towards his father, towards Wayne. She let it dictate her path – at least for now, until she got the information she needed.

They reached the headstone and Terry froze, his eyes closed shut from the pain and anguish. She held his hand and he returned the favor, opening his eyes ever so slowly.

"I…I don't know what to do", he said, eyes fixed on the grave.

"Talk to him"

"What do I say?", he replied, squeezing her hand so much that it hurt.

"Whatever you want, Terry", she said softly, trying to calm him.

He took several deep breaths, and after a few minutes decided to do just that.

"Dan", he asked with those beautiful eyes gazing into hers, "could you leave us alone for a while?"

"Sure"

When Dana was out of earshot, Terry began,

"Well, Dad, here I am (nervous laughter). I guess…I guess you might want to know what's been going on. Mom's doing fine – she's Assistant Head at her research department at Astro Tech. She's almost as busy as you were back in the day…Sorry, didn't mean to bring that up that sore spot."

Terry scratched behind his head, shuffled his feet and continued,

"Matt's doing great. He's acing all his exams. I know you wouldn't believe it, but he's even wilder than I was at his age…"

The stone seemed to stare back at him. Terry could feel the accusative, penetrating look Warren used to have when he knew Terry had done something he disapproved of. Terry looked down, embarrassed, and continued,

"Sigh…I know, I know…my other life. Look, I know you wouldn't have approved. God knows we fought about this enough when you were still here…"

Terry stopped, trying but failing to hold back the tears. He kept going,

"I'm doing the best I can. You know why I have to do this. I couldn't live with myself if I stopped. I… "

He couldn't anymore. Rivers seemed to flow from his eyes as he laid a single rose on top of the cold stone, his hands wishing for one last feel of his father's loving hand instead of this damned rock.

He walked towards Dana, hoping to get out of there as soon as possible. But another headstone caught the corner of his eye. Looking at it, he saw the name, shivers going up and down his back. Harold Tully. The name on the Wayne-Powers disc. Warren's Scouts buddy from the old photos. The man who most likely got his father killed.

Sure, Powers and Fixx were the ones who did the deed, but did that matter? His Dad was dead all the same, heroism or no. His thoughts shifted form Harold to his own heroics. Terry was more than willing to put his life on the line, but could he bear the thought of being responsible, however indirectly, for Dana or his family being hurt because of his "job"? The question lay unanswered ever since he learned about Tim; hell, ever since his first run-in with the Stalker. He could never forgive himself if…

"Who was he?"

Terry, startled, looked behind him, fist at the ready as per training, only to see Dana.

"You've been staring at that grave for fifteen minutes" Dana explained.

Terry calmed down and answered,

"A friend of my father's; they worked at the same company, died at the same time"

"I see…", she said, looking unconvinced she was getting the whole story.

Terry didn't know what to say. He froze. Dana understood – this Harold Tully was part of the story. Rather than make him more defensive, Dana decided to let it drop.

"All right, if you say so", she said, shrugging her shoulders and looking the other way as if in defeat. Terry smiled, relieved that she dropped the subject.

"Come on, let's go grab a bite to eat. I'm sure your father's worried about your losing weight", she said, pointing to his shrinking waistline, a product of his increased training, "a Beefy Burger should set his mind at ease"

As they walked back towards the bike, Dana gave one last glance backwards. Harold Tully wouldn't be going anywhere. She could look into him another day.

_BB + 1 year to the day, McGinnis Home_

Terry got into the apartment. No one was awake. There were no arch-criminals on the loose. Exhausted in every way, he collapsed on the bed after quickly undressing.

Well, he thought, at least I'll get a good night's sleep for once…

_Terry sat crouched in the graveyard in his usual position, ready for his doppelganger and Mad Dog. Only this time they were nowhere to be seen. He stood up, eyes slowly rising until they froze. No, it can't be…_

_"Hello, Terry"_

_It took him a few minutes to collect the strength necessary to speak. Even then, he could barely utter but one word,_

_"Dad?"_

PART VI: Maturation

Chapter 4: Peering Through a Fog

_BB + 15 years, Post-Epilogue, Wayne Manor_

Terry was still looking out the window, lost in thought, when the study door opened. Helena came out, and Bruce closed the door behind her. Terry managed to lock eyes with him before it was shut, displeasure written all over his face. Bruce didn't flinch or look away; indeed he seemed to be entirely unmoved. The two of them were like forces of nature – an unstoppable force and an immovable object, destined to continually struggle without any real resolution. Some things never changed.

Fine, he thought. That's the way you want to play it? Leaving me hanging with no explanations? Well, then I'll have no part in this, he said to himself as he moved quickly to get down to the cave. He moved rapidly, not even looking at the guest of the house, afraid to deal with this latest revelation. He was almost out of there…

"Terry, wait"

Damn it. I was so close.

"Terry, I know you're probably upset at Bruce for not telling you about me"

That was the understatement of the year; a pile of bricks on top of the one-ton weight that hit him a week ago. Please let me go, he thought, knowing he wouldn't be able to refuse what was probably coming next…

"At least let me try to explain… "

"Why doesn't he do that himself?", Terry sneered, his back still turned toward her, hiding much of his face. It would have shown the intense feelings of pain he was experiencing.

"He figured you probably wouldn't listen to him. That you'd reject any explanation he had"

"He figured right"

"Well, at least hear **me** out before you go storming off"

Terry couldn't bear it, not now. But he didn't want to hurt someone in the crossfire between him and Bruce either. He struck a middle ground,

"When do you leave Gotham?"

Helena understood the obvious ploy for a postponement, and as she really did want to get closer to him, let him have it,

"I'll be here for a few more days. I'm staying at the Gotham Plaza Hotel"

"Fine. We'll be in touch"

"But I didn't…"

She was going to give him her contact information, but Terry was already out the door.

Helena stood in the waiting room, equidistant from the study door and the exit. The two of them seemed so different, yet so similar, she thought. Having met with and resolved her relationship with one, she was curious what would happen when she tried to understand the other…

_BB + 1 year, McGinnis Home_

_"H-how are you…here…?"_

_"You never did say goodbye, remember?"_

_Terry was still stunned, but he was regaining his bearings. In spite of the increasing wind and threatening clouds, he stood firm._

_"Where are…"_

_"Where are who, Terry?"_

_He was going to mention his Duo of Torment, but decided against it. He wanted to savor every moment he had with him, even though he knew it was just his imagination._

_"Never mind, Dad, I'm just glad you're here"_

_He moved to embrace him, to __**feel**__ him again. Anything, even imagination, was better than his actual final embrace of his father. It felt so real…_

_"Terry, you have to wake up"_

_"What?"_

"Terry, come on, you'll be late for school", Mary said as she gently shook her son.

"No, please, just a few more minutes…", he said groggily.

"No. Come on, Terry"

Terry slowly awoke. "OK, OK"

Mary walked toward the door. Before she left, she reminded Terry,

"By the way, I left the college brochures on the coffee table, and circled the ones I thought you might be interested in. Please take a look…"

"Mom, I don't have time."

"Terry, I know you're very involved in your job with Mr. Wayne, but you can't be a part-time assistant your whole life. Besides, he's not going to be around forever. You need to think ahead a little"

The mention of the possibility of losing his mentor was the last straw, coming as it did just minutes after his encounter with Dad.

"I said I don't have time! Damn it, will you just leave me alone!"

"Fine", Mary replied as she slammed the door behind her, angry and hurt by the ferocity of Terry's voice.

He put his head in hands, trying to collect his thoughts, when he heard him,

_"You know she's only trying to help. It's not her fault she doesn't understand"_

Terry lifted his head and looked around. _All of a sudden he was in a semi-dream, his father standing before him._

_"It's not like __**I**__ did any better…", he said with a sad laugh._

_"I…". Terry looked down, sighing, "Look, at least you tried"_

_"So is she, in her own way. You have to forgive her"_

_"Can you forgive me?"_

_"Terry, I… "_

"Who are you talking to?"

Terry looked around, only to see Matt in the doorway, a puzzled look on his face.

"Nobody. Get out of here, twip."

"Great, my brother's a whack job," he said to himself as he closed the door.

Terry wondered whether Matt was right; maybe he **was** going crazy. Just what he needed.

_BB + 1 year, Batcave, 1 month later_

Terry finished his intensive workout and began the obstacle course. It was just like his old stunts through Gotham back in the day, just a hundred times more exhausting and exhilarating. After finishing the course, he took on the synthoids. He quickly overtook them, missing only once with his batarangs and managing to dodge all the blows.

When it was all over, Bruce shut off the exercise. Terry went and wiped his face with a towel,

"So, how did I do?"

"Better than before", he said in his usual judgmental tone, "you managed to do it in ten seconds less. Your finesse and technique still need work though."

Terry threw the towel away. "Again."

"No, enough. You've done this course three times today already. You need to take a break"

"I'll take a break when I hit the goal for this course."

"Terry, I know you want to improve, but you've only been at this a month and a half. You need to give it time"

Bruce hoped he would get the message. When he started training Terry, the latter mostly went through the motions, doing just enough to "get the job done". Over the past few months, however, Terry had been going in the opposite direction, increasingly aiming to improve more and more. For him, apparently, the sky was the limit. Between his time at the Batcomputer and on the courses, it was a wonder he could stop crime or study for school, let alone get any sleep. This past month he'd upped the ante even further, and he was quickly driving himself to the point of collapse. Terry had to slow down for his own good.

"Yeah, well, time is something I don't have. You were already halfway done with your training when you were my age. I need to catch up."

Damn, he's stubborn. Maybe a different approach will work.

"First off, training never really ends. Second, there are advantages to your lack of discipline"

"What?"

Terry looked genuinely confused. Good.

"You're unsystematic, true, but you're also unpredictable and you learn quickly from your mistakes. That makes it harder for your enemies to anticipate your behavior and makes you a more formidable opponent."

Terry seemed to be somewhat pacified, but only somewhat.

"What about all the 'finesse and technique' issues? Unpredictability doesn't solve that."

"True. That's why I sent you to Tanaga…"

There was a moment of silence as they both re-absorbed her loss.

"So who do I go to now?"

Bruce wondered what to answer. All his other mentors lived outside Gotham. Leaving the city for any length of time before Terry graduated was likely to arouse unwanted curiosity. His family or friends might start to really wonder what his "part-time job" entailed.

Terry was dealing with the same dilemma _when he found himself in the dream again. Dad spoke,_

_"Hey, what about…?"_

Terry knew who he was referring to. Looking back in Bruce's direction, he continued,

"You know, I think **I** may know someone"

_BB + 1 year, Hamilton High, the next day_

God, what a day. Between college applications, swim meets and mid-terms, Dana barely had any time to breathe, let alone have fun. She put her books back in her locker and closed the door, revealing Chelsea's face.

"So, we on for tonight? I have the tickets and everything", Chelsea said, grasping at entrance passes to one of the shwayest clubs in the city.

"Of course", said Dana, a wide smile on her face.

They began walking together in the hallway, laughing, when Chelsea's phone went off. She put it back in her bag when she saw who it was.

"Your Dad again?" Dana asked.

"Yeah" she answered tersely, annoyed.

Dana eyed Chelsea with some concern. Kevin Cunningham had been trying desperately to reconnect with his daughter ever since the Ranch incident. This included funding her every need – from parties to going to the college of her choice. His obvious hope was that Chelsea would let him back in her life.

So far, she was adamant in stonewalling him. Whenever Dana mentioned the money he was spending on her, Chelsea brushed it off as simply just compensation for making her go through hell. Still, Dana persisted, in the belief that just as Terry benefited from partially reconnecting with his father, so would Chelsea.

"You know, maybe…"

Chelsea's radar picked up the attempt to talk about Dad immediately,

"Dana, I thought we said the subject was dropped"

"At least give him a chance…"

"You're one to talk! Did you even talk to Terry about what I said?"

"I…"

Just then she saw Howard by, and relieved, took the escape hatch,

"Excuse me, I have to talk to Howard about something…college-related"

Chelsea sighed. Saved by the nerd. Maybe she could take Nelson to the club…

"Howard, wait up!"

"What's up, Dana?"

"I need you to do me a favor"

"What?"

"I need you to find everything you can about this man, especially how he died", she said as she handed him a piece of paper with a name.

"Ummm…can't you just find out on the net?"

"I tried that. But there was a complete news blackout on this guy. It's as if he never existed"

"So how do you expect me to…"

The look in Dana's eyes made it clear exactly how he was to get the information

"Ooooh, no. I'm still up a creek for the Synthia incident. As it is, I'm lucky my parents didn't disown me. There's no way I'm hacking into confidential databases."

"Howard, please"

"Why can't somebody else do it? Max is just as good at computers as I am"

Dana had thought about that possibility, but discounted it just as quickly. Max had been covering for Terry for almost a year, now. Even if she didn't know what he was up to, she would probably warn Terry about her snooping around. Howard was the only other person qualified to do this. So she dangled the ultimate bait,

"Howard, if you do this, I'll get you a date with Chelsea"

A promise she doubted she could keep. Terry's secretive world of camouflage and deception was rubbing off on her.

"Really?"

His eyes lit up like a little boy being offered a rare and wonderful toy.

"Really"

"O..OK", he said scratching his head as he eyed the name.

"One other thing, Howard"

"What?"

"You can't tell anyone about this – not Max, not Terry. Just me"

"Sure", he said as he sauntered off.

Dana watched him leave, relieved to finally be making progress after a month of fruitless searching.

Allright, Mr. Tully, lets see if you can give me the answers I'm looking for…

PART VI: Maturation

Chapter 5: Roots

_BB + 15 years, post-Epilogue, Gotham Plaza Hotel, Lobby Area_

Helena got out of the elevator and began to walk towards the lobby. She was elegantly dressed and kept her poise. Many years of being a politician taught her how to mask her true feelings behind a poker face. Outwardly, there was no sign of the deep disappointment she felt inside.

This was her last night in Gotham, and Terry had not made good on his promise. She walked ever so slowly, hoping against hope that he would show. Just as she exited the door for another meaningless visit to one of Gotham's upscale joints (the neo-Ritz, this time), she saw him.

Standing next to his car at full height, Terry cut an impressive figure - elegantly dressed enough to be able to go to an upscale party, yet possessing none of the false superiority of most of the people who would attend such an occasion. Everything about him seemed real, alive. If only she were thirty years younger, she thought…

They drove to a small Italian place just off downtown, aptly called Angelo's. It looked and felt like one of those old-time family places that time forgot, with its intimacy and warmth. Terry acted the perfect gentleman – opening the door for her, taking her coat. It felt a little artificial, a subtle yet awkward attempt to "set the mood".

The beginning of the meal went well – too well. The appetizers were served; classical piano playing in the background – pieces like Debussy's Claire De Lune and Chopin's Raindrop Prelude. They dodged the issue at hand for half an hour, talking and laughing about nothing at all. It was clear from his body language that Terry wanted to "cut to the chase" but without hurting her. After the main course arrived, Helena decided to cut the Gordian Knot,

"Terry, I've been a prosecuting attorney for forty years, and I've had to deal with a lot – political shenanigans, scandals and even a few assassination attempts. I can take as much as I can dish out. Ask what you want – I can handle it."

Terry smiled awkwardly at being called out,

"I'm that obvious?"

Helena gave a coy yet kind smile,

"If you squirmed any more, you'd fall through the chair"

Terry looked like a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

"How are you related to Bruce?"

"I'm his biological daughter"

Terry didn't seem surprised, which was strange. Something told her this wasn't the first time this issue had come up.

"Who's the mother?"

She looked down, a bit embarrassed.

"Selina Kyle, otherwise known as Catwoman"

Now it was Terry's turn to look as though he'd been caught off guard, though only momentarily. He took a deep breath and continued his examination of the witness,

"How long have you known? I mean, your online bio mentions that you grew up in a two-parent household"

"Yes, I did. The nicest and kindest people you'd ever meet. That was the problem – it felt too good be true. Even though I shared physical traits with them, something felt…I don't know, wrong. But I didn't want to hurt them, so I kept my suspicions to myself – at least until my "mother" needed an organ transplant a year ago. When it turned out I was not a genetic match, everything I'd kept inside all those years came pouring out."

Terry listened attentively, thinking of how the reverse problem had led to his ordeal just a week ago. She continued,

"For a while, I tried to avoid looking. They must have had a good reason, my original parents. But after a while, I couldn't avoid it anymore. I needed to know the truth, whatever it was, no matter how much it might hurt.

It wasn't easy at first. There was no paper trail, no records of any kind that I could find. Whoever they were, they sure covered their tracks well."

Terry smiled secretly to himself. Bruce and Waller should compare notes.

"Anyway, just to cover my bases, I had my DNA tested against the expanded CODIS database. One of the perks of being a DA. I never expected to actually get a hit…"

"Selina", Terry interjected, "So how did that lead you to Bruce?"

"Actually", she said as she sipped her wine, "It led Bruce to me. I guess he'd been watching me, and as soon as he heard about my looking for Selina, he contacted me. The rest of the story you know."

Terry looked at Helena sympathetically. From another unpleasant surprise in the world of Bruce Wayne, Helena now seemed more a kindred spirit.

Sometimes, there are things in the closet besides skeletons…

_BB + 1 year, 23rd and Washington Avenue_

Terry rode his bike up to the address and turned off the motor. He checked the address to make sure, but the building's somewhat worn façade told him this was the place. He slowly walked towards the door, uncertain of what to expect…

_*flashback*_

_BB – 8 years_

Terry walked slowly behind Warren, who held him by the hand. It had taken the former some time to convince Terry to agree to come along to the dojo. Granted, Terry thought the idea that he could learn how to fight just like the heroes he read about to be unbelievably cool. But he'd seen some of these classes from afar, and they seemed more like slow, dull lessons rather than action-packed intensive training. Only when Warren showed him some cool vids of kids fighting in a tournament did he become convinced that maybe something would come of it. Still, he was wary.

For his part, Warren hoped that these classes would teach Terry focus and discipline. The amount of things Terry was breaking in the house was increasing, and between Matt and his incredibly demanding job, he needed to find some way to tame Terry's energy.

The head of the dojo, Jim Shafer, was a two-time Karate World Champion. He had a reputation as an approachable and patient teacher who had worked wonders with his students. Warren hoped he would succeed with Terry, as he watched his son close the door behind him.

_BB – 3 years_

"I'm sorry, Mr. McGinnis, but I have no choice."

Terry peered behind the door to the office as Warren and Shafer had a tense discussion.

"Look, you have to understand, things are tough at home. Mary and I are having a rough patch…Terry's a good kid, give him another chance."

Warren sounded like he was begging Shafer rather than asking. It was no use, though,

"I wish I could, I really do. Until recently, he was one of my best students. His enthusiasm and dedication infected his classmates. But he's changed in the past couple of months…"

"Wait, so this isn't just about his breaking the mirror?"

"No. If it were just that one time, it would be one thing, but it's not. I don't know what he's been telling you, but Terry hasn't shown up for most of the classes. When he does, he starts fights on the slightest provocation. We're lucky he hit the mirror with his kick instead of poor Jimmy."

Warren looked down in embarrassment, absorbing the heat from yet another bridge burned by his out-of-control son.

Shafer reverted to his full 5'10" stature, breathed deeply, and with the full air of authority declared,

"I'm sorry, Mr. McGinnis, but Terry can't learn here anymore"

Warren accepted the verdict quietly, bowing to the inevitable.

"Come on, Terry", he said as he walked his son out the door. He looked at Terry not with anger, but fear. First there was skipping school, then ducking his friends, and now this. As things stood now, there was nothing to keep his son from falling into the abyss.

His family wasn't just "breaking up" now, it was completely falling apart.

_*end flashback*_

Terry looked around the dojo, the now empty room suddenly coming to life in his mind as he recalled the many years he'd spent honing his skills. He saw himself, a kid in a gi two sized too big, practicing his kicks to perfection (stances were another story). Then of course, he screwed it all up, as he usually did…

"Can I help you?", a familiar voice came, the sound of a door closing.

Terry turned around, and there he was – Jim Shafer, "big Jim", the kids called him, though he obviously didn't seem so big anymore. His former teacher's eyes opened in disbelief,

"Terry McGinnis? Is that you?", he came over to shake his hand, "How are you doing? How's your old man?"

Terry looked down,

"He…died. Murdered by Jokerz about a year ago"

Terry had long since trained himself to tell this "white lie" whenever asked on the subject. He hated doing it, necessary though it was. Jim let go,

"I'm sorry, I didn't know…So what are you doing here? Come to pay a visit? About time…it's been what, five years?" he said as he lightly punched Terry in the shoulder.

"Actually, I was hoping to start over here"

Jim looked quizzically at his former student.

"Well, I was just about to close up here. Why don't you come back tomorrow and we'll talk about it…"

Terry could sense the hesitation on Big Jim's part, and he tried to allay his fears.

"Look, Jim, I know I messed up back in the day, but I've changed. Juvie really set me straight."

More than you'll ever know, he thought. The mention of his incarceration only served to increase Jim's suspicion, so Terry tried a different direction,

"Look, I live with my Mom, now; I'm doing well in school. I even have this schway job – I work with Bruce Wayne as a part-time assistant…"

Shafer seemed to relent a little, but he seemed unconvinced.

"That's nice, Terry, but I don't understand why you need more martial arts training…"

Once burned, twice shy. The old expression he'd learned from Melanie seemed to apply to Jim here. He couldn't tell him the whole truth, but he needed his help, so he decided to make one last attempt,

"I got the job saving Bruce from a gang of Jokerz. I got lucky, it could have gone the other way. There are plenty of times people have tried to kill the old man, like that guy Shriek, to say nothing of the gangs that showed up from time to time."

Lucky that an old man with a cane saved my butt, he thought, and continued,

"…then there was the incident with the guy claiming to be the Joker. I wasn't able to stop him; if Batman hadn't been there…"

Terry closed his eyes, the genuine fear of losing his mentor helping him to continue the charade. Jim looked at him sympathetically.

"Terry, with all due respect, you're not Batman."

The comment stung, though obviously Jim could not possibly have known why. Terry replied,

"Yeah, but if he hadn't been there, I would have been the only one there to protect him. He would have…"

The pain of having not been there for Dad came again, _and he saw him behind Jim, looking sympathetically_. Jim replied,

"You really care for him, don't you?"

The question was unnecessary – Shafer could see the answer in the pain and seriousness in Terry's face. The kid really had changed in the past five years. Still, his classes were full. He debated the issue a few minutes, Terry looking at him hoping for an affirmative answer. Suddenly, he let out,

"Show me what you've got"

Terry was taken aback.

"What, now?"

Jim narrowed his gaze,

"You've got something better to do?"

Terry smiled. Good old Big Jim. He let down the bag and took off his jacket.

The fight was not as one-sided as Terry had expected. He managed to dodge quite a few blows and land some of his own. But Shafer managed to take advantage of his lack of accuracy and care to knock him down repeatedly. Every time, Terry got up, ready for more, and forcing Shafer to resort to different and more sophisticated ruses to trip him up. The kid learned fast. After the tenth knock-down, Jim called it off,

"I can see your problem – you have the moves and the instincts, but you think too much like a street fighter. Lots of power and bravado, not enough finesse."

"Think you can help with that?", Terry asked, almost challenging him. Shafer took the dare,

"I'll tell you what. You already have the experience, so I'll squeeze you in to my private lesson schedule for advanced students."

Terry smiled, but Jim was all business,

"One condition, McGinnis, and it's not negotiable. You show up to every lesson…"

"Yeah, um, sometimes Mr. Wayne has emergencies…"

Shafer lowered his brow.

"Fine, emergencies excepted, you show up - and you keep that damned temper of yours in check. I'm giving you a second chance here, kid, screw up and I don't know you from Adam."

Terry wasn't unnerved by the harsh language; it only motivated him more. As he moved to leave the room, Jim left a parting shot,

"One other thing, that lousy self-confidence of yours gets left at the door along with your temper. If I say you can do it, you can do it."

Terry was taken aback,

"How did you?"

"I've been a teacher for over ten years, kid. I can smell these things a mile away."

Shafer went back in to get some things from the office, and Terry went on his way. Behind him, he could feel his father smiling at him.

_[The inspiration for the kitchen scene at Wayne Manor comes from a lesser-known movie called Operation Carlos – aiwac]_

PART VI: Maturation

Chapter 6: The Devil in the Details

_BB + 15 years, Post-Epilogue, Angelo's_

The waiter arrived with the main courses.

"Anything else, Mr. Ra…"

"No, we're fine", he stopped him before he could finish the sentence.

"Very well, sir"

Terry and Helena both took a much-needed break from soul-searching to enjoy their good old-fashioned dinners. The place hadn't changed much from the first time Terry dined here. Then his host tried to get answers out of **him**; now the roles were reversed. The more things change…

"So, I'm assuming last Monday wasn't the first time you've met Bruce"

"No. We've been meeting every month for about half a year now."

"What's it like? Talking with Bruce?"

"Talking might be too strong a word…at least, we don't really have full conversations. Still, he seems to work very hard to overcome his habits. He even offers me some of his soup when I come…"

Terry smirked.

"That's a good sign. He told me once that his Mom used to make him pea soup when he was little; it's one of his strange ways of showing affection."

Bruce, a man of actions, not words – even with family. Terry continued to probe,

"So, did he answer any of your questions?"

"As a matter of fact", she said wiping some dressing from the side of her mouth, "he was very forthright; didn't hold anything back. I could see how proud he is of me. I could see his eyes light up whenever we touched on my work as DA. He seemed especially interested in Nightwing…"

"How did he justify abandoning you?", trying to steer him back on track.

Helena shot him a look of pure anger.

"He didn't 'abandon' me. He hand-picked a good family where I would be cared for, established a trust fund I later found out about that helped me get through college.

I've met both him and Selina; they would have made for lousy parents. He did what he thought was best for me; it was his way of showing how much he cares – by recognizing his own inabilities."

"As much as Bruce can care for someone" Terry said snidely.

Helena was badly hurt, but held back. Years of being a prosecutor taught her the subtle art of looking for weaknesses in your debating opponent rather than always playing defense. After a minute, she saw her opening and took it,

"You're not fooling anyone, you know. You care for him deeply, as well"

"What are you talking about?"

"You bring him his weekly med dosage even though you could have someone else do it, or at least get a month's or even a year's supply. That says you want to be in regular contact with him."

She motioned him to come closer so they could talk in a whisper,

"You also keep him up to speed on your job as Batman even though you don't need to anymore"

Terry's eyes bulged out and he was about to reply when Helena calmed him down,

"Relax, I knew even before Bruce told me. It wasn't hard to put two and two together once I learned Bruce and Selina are my parents. The romance between Catwoman and Batman is the stuff of legends. Bruce just filled in the blanks. Yes, to answer your next question, your secret's safe with me. All in the family, as it were…"

Terry looked even more tense at the last remark as he pulled back and closed his eyes.

Helena pressed home her advantage.

"You know, you're really a lot more alike than you'd admit. You're both stubborn, proud and refuse to admit what you really feel except under intense pressure. You'd think **you** two were…"

Just then Helena noticed the similarity between Terry's brow, eyes and chin to Bruce's. Her mouth stood wide open; her face red as a beet. Terry saw the signs, and decided to tell her what he could without putting her in danger. All in the family, after all.

"Before you ask - yes, I am biologically Bruce's son. I can't tell you everything, but it's a much more bizarre story than yours…"

Helena turned even brighter red, her previous thoughts about Terry causing even further embarrassment. Now that he had **her** on the ropes, he felt more comfortable responding to her main offensive.

"You're right, by the way. I do care about him very much, though it has nothing to do with genetics."

The last sentence was stated emphatically, a swing of the hand serving to reinforce the point. He took a deep breath, and continued,

"Bruce taught me to accept myself for who I am. He was there for me during the worst of times. I considered him to be my new father figure long before I learned about my genetic connection…"

It was so strange. Bruce's method of parenthood had been so unconventional, yet it worked for both of the people at Table 14. Maybe convention was overrated…

_BB + 1 year, 23rd and Washington_

"OK, today we're going to work on your technique. I want you to do last week's series of stances against me – but this time, do them in slow motion"

Slow motion is for beginners, Terry thought, as he did everything in quick succession, only to be easily knocked down.

"Ungh!", Terry grunted.

"Terry, you're not going to improve if you keep ignoring my suggestions.", he said with his arm outstretched.

"I know what I'm doing!" Terry said, annoyed as he got up.

"No, you don't. You know enough to pass muster at medium level, but you're out of practice and if you think speed's going to cover that up, you've got another thing coming. If you can't do it slow, you sure as hell can't do it fast"

Terry was going to object, but thought the better of it. Reluctantly, he forced himself to go through the stances at less than top speed.

"Slower, Terry"

He grunted and chafed under the restriction. It was like asking a sprinter to carry barbells. Still, he persevered.

At first, it was merely an annoyance. Slowly but surely, however, Terry began to understand the importance of the exercise. He could now see every mistake, every inaccuracy in balance or technique. He corrected them all with Shafer's help.

There was something else. Up until now, Terry was a guy on the run, often going at higher and higher speeds on his bike to dull his awareness. Now, he was fully aware of everything around him – the room, the floor, the windows. Before, he barely noticed his surroundings. Now, he was fully cognizant of them; it gave him a feeling of control he'd never known before.

With his new found skill, he increasingly anticipated and countered more and more of Shafer's attacks and moves, just by noticing subtle clues in his body language. Terry now understood that fighting at this level was not a brawl. It was a dance, one which Terry was eager to learn.

"Very good, Terry. You sure catch on quick. When you practice at home, don't forget to do things at this pace."

"Sure"

Maybe he could do this after all…

_BB + 1 year, Wayne Manor, a month later_

Terry made it to the Batcave for morning practice, just in time to see Bruce review his videos. He braced himself for the inevitable criticism. What came out surprised him.

"You're improving rapidly, McGinnis. Shafer must be working you hard"

Well, THAT was unexpected.

"Thanks", Terry said, seizing the opportunity to take the compliment.

Bruce turned to him with his usual stern look.

"Still, there's a lot to do. Now that we've got the fighting angle covered, I want to work on something else."

Terry sighed,

"What now?", he thought as he approached the Batcomputer.

"Watch here"

This was the worst and most painful part of training and work – seeing his mistakes on live TV. Still, it was critical. Live and learn, as Bruce would say.

"Notice how you keep moving in too fast, not noticing criminals until they're dangerously close?"

"Hey – no-one's gotten the jump on me since the Royal Flush Gang broke up. In case you haven't noticed, I've been coming home with less and less injuries too"

"True, but you're still taking unnecessary risks. If you'd spent a few more seconds checking out the warehouse, you'd have spotted both the guy in the corner and the laser-armed camera"

"I thought we were going to work on something, not just stand here pointing out where I messed up", Terry growled.

"We are. It's called observation. It's critical to your work both as a crime-fighter and a detective"

"Hey, I've spotted plenty of things!"

"I didn't say you don't, but you still have the bad habit of rushing past things. I know you've done good work; you could do a lot better"

Even the rare words of encouragement didn't seem to put a dent in Terry's visibly increasing sense of dejection, so Bruce tried another tack. Putting his hand on his protégé's shoulder, he continued,

"Bad habits are hard to break – I should know."

Bruce knew Terry still constantly compared himself unfavorably to him, as though he himself were a flawless marble model who never had his own painful failures. The fact that Terry knew this wasn't true from a factual point of view didn't help matters.

The image served a purpose in the beginning of their partnership. Terry was rebellious by nature, and he needed to absorb the fact that Bruce knew better. Eventually the kid came round to acknowledging his seniority.

Now, however, this belief had not only outlived its usefulness, it was paralyzing Terry's progress in the critical areas of detective work. It was bad for Batman.

He let his hand off Terry's shoulder and let him absorb what he said for a little bit. The he lifted his cane and poked Terry lightly in the stomach,

"Speaking of bad habits, when was the last time you ate?"

"Hey, I had a sandwich on the way over"

Bruce raised an eyebrow.

"Hey, I eat plenty for a guy my age"

"A guy your age who's trying to become an Olympic-level athlete and fights homicidal criminals on a nightly basis?"

"Would you stop worrying about me? You sound just like my Mom"

"I'm worried about Gotham. It needs a guardian that won't collapse from under-nourishment. I took the liberty of calculating a diet that would allow you to get your strength back and bulk up"

He handed Terry a piece of paper. His eyes bulged wide open when he saw the numbers.

"This is a joke, right?"

Bruce wasn't laughing.

"Oh, right, forgot who I was talking to. Look, I bring this much worth of food home and Mom's going to have a fit. She'll start to become very curious about what exactly I do here that requires this kind of diet"

"I thought about that, and I bought a large order of provisions from e-shop. It's all in the kitchen"

Terry knew better than to argue at this point. He started to go up the stairs, hoping there wouldn't be anything disgusting like eel juice. He stopped and was going to ask Bruce…

"Third floor, end of the hall"

He turned back towards the entrance, and Bruce watched.

OK, McGinnis, let's see if you find them.

When he got to the kitchen, he started going through the food – all of it labeled by Bruce in terms of caloric and nutritional value. Man, he didn't miss a trick.

As he started to prepare one of his favorite dishes, _the dream started to materialize again, and Dad was standing in the corner of the room._

_"You always were the cook of the house", he said with a slight laugh._

_"I wish I was as good at my job as I was at cooking", he said looking down at the ingredients._

_"Terry…you've succeeded in doing everything you've set your mind to. You're improving in training – even Bruce is impressed…"_

_"This is different", Terry interrupted "Detective work was always Bruce's territory. Even if I caught some breaks like the Babel incident and the Joker, he's the one who's been doing most of the heavy lifting in that area."_

_"You don't know if you can do it alone…even if Bruce does"_

_The truth of that statement was written all over Terry's face._

_"Why don't we try to test your observational skills here?"_

_Terry looked confused. Warren pressed the issue,_

_"How many plates are in that cupboard, for instance?"_

_Terry was a little bemused, but decided to play along. He opened the door and did a quick count._

_"Ten"_

_"Are you sure? How big are the plates? Are they all the same design? Is there anything behind the plates? You want to develop your observational skills? You're going to have to pay more attention than that"_

_Terry took a deep breath and used his "slowing down technique" from Shafer's classes. He became more aware of everything around him – the cupboards, the fridge, the walls. Once again, he opened the cupboards, checked, and then reported back,_

_"Twelve. Six big, six small. All the same basic floral pattern, though one of them is chipped at the edge. From the design it looks like it's been here for decades. I felt around, but all I could find was this…"_

_Terry looked at the object and recognized it instantly. Now he saw that this was a test, and using the same method, he went on the lookout for more such objects. A false panel here, a slightly discolored floorboard there, and Terry found them. Warren smiled with pride._

Bruce was sitting at the computer going through some old photos, when he heard the familiar sound of a batarang whizzing past him.

"Cupboard"

Another one.

"Floor"

And again.

"Corner of the wall"

Bruce waited a few more seconds, then said,

"You forgot the one in the…"

Just then another one flew out and landed next to him.

"…Pantry"

Both Bruce and Terry smiled with satisfaction. He had passed with flying colors. Dad would have been proud.

PART VI: Maturation

Chapter 7: Secrets Unearthed

_BB + 15 years, Post-Epilogue, Angelo's_

The desserts were served and Terry was quick to take a bite of his chocolate cake. As Helena took out some of the fruits from the cocktail to lighten the load, Terry took to another line of questioning,

"So, you mentioned that you've met Selina. What was she like?"

Helena finished one of the grapes in the cocktail and replied,

"Well, the first time we met was after I met Bruce. It was pretty awkward. She tried to slam the door in my face and fiercely denied anything about our relationship. It was only when I showed her the DNA evidence that she changed her tune – well, after a while. That fierce, strong exterior took a while to come off. I guess that decades of hiding behind a mask does that to you, though considering what I know about her past, I figure it was there even before she donned the costume."

She stopped, ate some pineapple slices, and continued,

"After she got over the initial shock, we sat down in the living room of her apartment; started to talk about my childhood. She said she was the one who picked the Forresters as an adoptive family, which Bruce agreed to after a thorough background check. Apparently, she'd broken into their house once and hadn't found anything unseemly or dangerous like she'd seen by so many others. It felt and looked like the home she'd never had growing up, and when she had me she wanted me to have it."

Helena smiled warmly as she continued her story,

"Selina was very enthusiastic to hear about me and my life – a lot more than she wanted to talk about her own. She even enjoyed divided up my traits between her and Bruce: my sense of justice she attributed to Bruce; my love of risk-taking in the courtroom – I even sometimes get a strange rush when I'm shot at – she connected with herself."

"Anyway, listen to me go on and on…", she said with a self-deprecating laugh, "Now it's your turn. What's your impression of my mother?"

"Actually, I never got the chance to form one. We've never really talked."

"You've never met her? Surely you must have bumped into her during the time you've been with Bruce"

"Yeah, but he always asks me to leave them alone. Besides, whenever I see her, she gives me a condescending look, like I'm just some errand boy, while Bruce is, was and always will be the only true Batman"

15 years and mountains of evidence to the contrary could only dull, not destroy that ever-persisting thorn. Some things you just learned to live with.

Helena held her half-brother's hand in attempt to ease his fears.

"She doesn't think that, not exactly. Bruce is, was and always will be the only Batman **for her**. That's the difference. Surely you have someone who feels the same way about you?"

Terry smiled.

"Well, actually, yeah, I do"

"Oh?" Helena looked, intrigued. "Engaged? I'm assuming Bruce would have told me if you were married"

"Almost. I plan to propose to her tomorrow night"

Terry started to have flashbacks to another time, when a rather strange set of circumstances brought him and Dana much more closely together. Of course, it was far from a standard romantic story. Things in the world of Batman never were…

_BB + 1 year, Hamilton High_

Terry McGinnis exited the school building feeling pretty good. Sure, he hadn't had a good night's sleep in what felt like forever, but that didn't matter. He was rapidly improving in all aspects of his training. He was getting better grades; even Max was impressed. But the thing that made it most worthwhile was Dana, now walking by his side.

Terry knew graduation was coming up soon, and that the chances that his relationship could continue beyond it were next to none. Still, better to enjoy the present than worry about the uncertain future. He couldn't afford to be riddled with self-doubt, not in his line of work.

Dana, on the other hand, was very nervous. Though she held Terry's hand affectionately and traded banter with him, she was actually anxious to find someone else, someone who had been avoiding her for a long time. Soon she spotted him, and quickly left Terry with a meek apology. Terry thought little of it, especially since he'd so often done the same to her.

She cornered him a block away and dragged him into the nearby alley.

"OK, Howard, you've been running from me for months. Did you get the information I asked? With the time you had, you could have hacked the Watchtower"

"Dana, please"

"No. No more excuses. What did you find? Spill!"

Groote was afraid it would eventually come to this. He'd found what he needed a while before this standoff, but he'd hoped to make it to graduation and MIT without having to reveal it. That no longer being an option, he spilled,

"I…I think Tulley was murdered – by his own company"

"What? What makes you say that?"

Howard looked down, an intellectual savant unable to deal emotionally with issues like this,

"There are just too many questions. Wayne Enter…well, then it was Wayne-Powers claimed it was a gas leak. But they never said what kind of gas, not even in internal e-mails. That's not all. Even though they said they had the body cremated for health reasons, I couldn't find any crematoria that handled anyone fitting Tully's description. I thought maybe they used one of their own facilities – they've got a lot of high-tech stuff there - but according to all their confidential files, none of their machines were used for destroying human remains. All of which leaves the question of how a healthy 45-year old deteriorated to the point that he fit in an urn."

Dana let go of Howard and started to absorb what Howard told her. Confused, she thought out loud,

"What does this have to do with Terry?"

Howard heard her and gave her the answer,

"I think Derek Powers also had his father murdered"

Dana flashed a look of astonishment and rage,

"What? That's ridiculous! Everyone knows he was murdered by Jokerz! Even the police said so!"

Howard sighed deeply. He hated doing this to one of the few true friends he'd ever had. Still, there was no turning back; he only hoped she would stay his friend after this,

"When I found out that Tulley was murdered, I started to wonder about Terry's Dad, since he worked there and wrote quite a bit to Tulley. Look, I thought it was a Jokerz murder, too, but learning what I did about Tulley and how this company makes people 'disappear', I just wanted to be sure. This is what I found"

He took out a computer printout of a draft official statement of the Wayne-Powers CEO to the press regarding the gruesome murder of Warren McGinnis at the hands of Jokerz. Dana almost laughed, it was so dumb,

"**This** is your proof? Of course he prepared a statement…"

"Look at the timestamp"

Dana obliged, sure that it would end up being nothing. But the truth now stared her in the face. The draft was made at 5:30 PM, fully **four hours** before Warren's death as determined by the police.

"I…I need to sit down", she said as she fell back towards the nearest wall, slumping onto the floor, head in hand.

"Dana… "

"Please…just go!"

She had come to him looking for certainty, for answers, maybe even closure. Now she didn't even know if she wanted to dig any further, so horrible were the implications. The questions swirled through her head – did Terry know? If so, why did he go to the once-owner (and present, for that matter) of the company that killed his father instead of the police? Above all, Dana asked herself repeatedly,

My God, Terry, what the hell have you gotten yourself into?

_BB + 1 year,_ _Old Northwest Industrial Zone_

"I don't know about this, Jack"

"Come on, Barney, Wayne Enterprises is going to start leveling this whole disaster zone tomorrow anyway for low-cost housing. The way I figure, we're just taking some mementoes from the old days. If those mementoes happen to include some lost jewelry or credits, well then…"

"It's just that all we've found…ungh…so far are rats and busted pipes. And some of these buildings really creep me out"

"Come on, where's your sense of adventure?" he said, giving his partner-in-crime a slap on the back.

"Yeah, adventure", Barney said, laughing "Hey, here's another door. Looks like it's been bolted shut. Hand me the torch"

After a few minutes of work, the door gave.

"So, Barney did we finally strike it rich?"

"N-not exactly", his meekness suddenly turning to terror. He was so scared he couldn't move.

Jack stepped up to investigate. "What's the matter, Barney, cat got your t…Oh, my God"

Jack reacted instantly – "Come on, let's get the hell out of here"

_Two Hours Later_

Commissioner Barbara Gordon was not in a good mood. This was the third time this week she'd tried to have a quiet, romantic evening with Sam only to get the call. As she got out of the car, she privately thought about how much more free time she had when she was wearing a cape instead of a badge.

Frank Roland, the detective on the scene, didn't seem too happy either. Frank was a talented up and coming detective - street-smart and skilled with good instincts. He was also a real maverick. Reminded her of someone else she knew - someone who wore a different kind of badge.

"What's the story?"

"Patrol caught a couple of looters a few blocks from here, running as if they'd seen Satan himself. They told us about some sort of "torture room" nearby, and we agreed to let them go if they'd show it to us. Right this way"

It was creepy to be back here near the old Jolly Jack factory. It was hard to believe that just a few months ago the Joker had come within inches of destroying the whole city. Now Bruce was helping to remove the last of the scars so the city could heal. But apparently there were still some things left to uncover in the rubble and partially demolished buildings before they could be swept away.

Finally, they came to the room.

"You ready?"

"Yes"

Barbara saw it and wanted to look away immediately. Years of fighting crime and sociopathic monsters had not deadened her sensitivity to human suffering; quite the contrary. It was her job, though, so she persevered.

It was designed like a torture-chamber, all sorts of tools hanging from the walls. Blood, thick from age, covered the floor. One of the victims was left to rot on the table, while mementoes from other victims were on the shelf.

"Enough" she said as she closed the door. Taking a deep breath, she asked, "how many?"

"We've identified six so far, but it's going to take a while; city computers are on the fritz again."

Barbara nodded. "Just get it done as quickly as possible. Do we like anyone for this?"

"In this town? May as well just open the e-phone book and start dialing"

"Well, in any event, I want a tight lid on it. No one talks to the press without going to me first."

"Yeah, about that", he said as he opened up his cell to the news channel to reveal the former looters telling their story on the 9:00 PM.

"Guess they figured they could make money off the juicy details. We can't arrest them now, they'll claim they were just doing their civic duty." He said as he closed the cell.

If Barbara was in a bad mood before, she was positively livid now.

"Allright, get every GCSI tech down here now. I want every shred of evidence bagged and catalogued, every possible photo taken NOW before the vultures start coming, got it?"

"Got it", Roland said to himself as he sent out the distress call to everyone on the list. "We going to bring in the Bat on this?"

People on the force knew about her unofficial work with Batman, Roland included. None of them approved, and it was a tight balancing act for Barbara between placating her men and using Terry's assistance when it was necessary. Unfortunately, this was Gotham, and necessity was rather frequent. So she became as adept an expert at walking the political tightrope as her former lover was at the physical one. This time, the decision was relatively easy.

"No"

At least, not yet.

_BB + 1 year, A block away, same time_

He watched from a safe distance, feeling strangely apathetic as the police picked apart his life's work. Ever since the malfunctioning defense satellite cut a swath of destruction through this area, he knew someone would eventually discover his secret. Rather than move his trophies and equipment, he impatiently awaited their unveiling. He felt like an excited spectator in his own drama, rather than a participant.

He knew it had to end. Hell, he **wanted** it to end. Life these past three years had become so…boring. Riding with his peers had lost its luster long ago. Yet even his old anchor of hunting and experimenting with the helpless felt dull, uneventful. It no longer even came close to temporarily filling the void he felt inside.

The only thing that kept him going was the thought of his protégé. He'd kept a close eye on him over the past three years. He often heard stories of his comrades being beaten up by someone matching his description. It was hard to repress a smile at seeing him progress so well.

He knew what he needed to do, what he wanted to do. As William Madigan walked away from the scene of the crime, he thought that this time, Terry McGinnis would learn the truth.

The failure at Juvie was just a setback, he told himself. All Terry needed were better lessons.

END: PART VI: Maturation


	7. Chapter 7

PART VII: The Killer Instinct

Chapter 1: Step One: Madness

_BB + 1 year, Gotham Docks_

All great cities have nicknames – the city of lights, of brotherly love, the big easy or the big apple. Gotham City lacked such a moniker. If it had one, this city, with its reputation for chaos and suffering, masked heroes and psychotic killers, would no doubt be known as the city of Madness.

So it seemed anyway to Gotham homicide detective Frank Roland, as he kept his gun steadily pointed at the armed man just ten feet away from him. He was careful not to startle him, lest he kill his hostage. Enough blood had been shed already in this case.

The week-long storm reached a fever pitch, wind, rain, thunder and lightning all competing with each other for dramatic effect. It was as though the Heavens themselves were announcing this to be the climax of the two-month long investigation into the Northside Butcher.

It was a fitting end, good enough for the movies: a standoff between the police and an armed perpetrator at the edge of the old dockyard. But appearances were deceiving, and the irony was not lost on Roland. This perverse reversal of "how things should be" was but the final blow to whatever illusions Roland had left.

Suddenly, it ended – the flash of a gun, the sight of a barrel, and it was over. It only took two, maybe three seconds, but the images would be seared into Roland's mind for the rest of his life. He slowly approached, moving along the dark yard. A flash of lightning nearby illuminated the scene, confirming what he already knew.

They were both dead; the gunshot wounds told the story. He put his weapon down; released his finger from the trigger. Holding his head down, he mourned the victims, consoling himself with the knowledge that they were the last ones.

Little did he know that nearby, the storm that had consumed so many lives was attempting to collect one last soul, Gotham's last and greatest hope: Terry McGinnis.

_BB + 1 year, Gotham Department of Motor Vehicles, Two Months Ago_

Stanley Labowski was mad - **really** mad. The Gotham DMV had impounded his vehicle for being parked next to a Wayne Enterprises medical research building and loaded with explosives. Now he was going to get back at the Man for stopping his patriotic plan to stop the attempt to brainwash everyone with a new vaccine against meta-flu. Those stinking bureaucratic flunkies would learn the price of messing with Mad Stan.

All the explosives were placed, and he took out his trusty detonator to finish the job. As if on cue, a batarang cut through the wire. Next came the by-now familiar blow to the jaw, a quick blur of black signaling Batman's entry. Stan recovered, getting ready to try for the last time to convince Batman why he needed to blow up the DMV.

Except this time Batman didn't give him the chance. One flash grenade and several blows later, Stan was on the floor, out cold. He never so much as got a word in edgewise. The next thing he remembered, he was cuffed inside a police car on his way to the Gotham General psych ward. He didn't even know what hit him.

On his way back home, Bruce spoke to Terry on the radio link,

"Terry, what happened in there?"

The tone in his voice betrayed concern, though it was hard to hear under the rough barking.

"Nothing. I came, I saw, I knocked him out. End of story."

"You didn't talk to him at all. Not even a joke or a taunt"

"Hey, I thought you **wanted** me to cut down on the chit-chat. Besides, I've heard it all before, and I'm getting sick of the re-runs"

Normally, Bruce would be happy that Terry had become more business-like. But it was going too far – he was becoming too intense, too dangerous, too much…like him. What was good for Bruce was not necessarily good for Terry, especially with the recent revelations on the Northside.

"Terry, I want you to take the rest of the night off. Go home and get some sleep"

"But I have at least two more runs to do, and there's still the Northside ca…"

"Go home, McGinnis, now! That's an order! Don't make me hit the fail-safe!"

It was an exceptionally harsh order, even for Bruce. Terry decided to yield, for now.

"OK, OK, I'm going!"

At least until I can find out why he's trying so hard to keep me off this case.

Bruce sighed with relief, but he knew it was only a temporary reprieve. God help everyone when he found out the truth.

_BB + 1 year, McGinnis Home_

Terry snuck into his bedroom as per usual, exhausted yet frustrated. Still, the bed seemed so tempting, and it was already 3:00 AM…

_He was in the graveyard, the two monuments still in place._ _Patiently he waited for Dad to show up, just like he'd done before. Suddenly, there he was._

_"Hello, Terry"_

_"Hey, Dad"_

_Before either of them could say another word, lightning struck the ground between them. A new huge gravestone sprouted up, the name "Mary McGinnis" appearing in bold letters. Then another one next to him, this one with Matt's name on it. Another bolt struck behind him, this one naming Maxine Gibson as the deceased. Then one last bolt struck, effectively surrounding him with tombstones. The last one was engraved "Dana Tan"._

_"Dad, what's going on?" he couldn't see him anymore through the marble prison, the names staring at him accusingly._

_"Terry, you've got to let go. You've got to…" the voice weakened and then disappeared._

_"What? Dad, what are you talking about? Dad, where are you? Daaaaaaaaad!"_

Terry awoke with a start. After he calmed down, he checked the clock. 4:30 AM. Great, so much for a smooth REM cycle.

It had been a long time since he'd had a nightmare this terrifying. Then again, he'd developed a very bad reaction ever since he heard about the Northside case on the news two days ago. It stirred something inside of him, a sixth sense now finely tuned to sense danger. The same sense he felt just before the Joker made his final comeback. Something was coming. That he didn't know what it was only made him more wary.

He was going to go back to sleep when he heard the low volume of the television playing in the living room. Opening the door, he saw Matt watching the Retro Movie channel. Terminator 2 was playing.

Terry stood in front of the TV, accusing eyes staring at the late-night curfew culprit.

"Matt, what the heck are you doing up?"

"I couldn't sleep"

The look in his eyes showed something more than exhaustion – fear.

Terry calmed down and sat next to his brother, hand on shoulder for support.

"What's wrong, Matt? You're usually the deepest sleeper I know. Wars couldn't wake you up"

"I had a bad dream. I saw you and Dad in his old apartment, and you were both…you were both…" He knew what he saw, but he couldn't get the words out.

"Hey, hey, I'm not going anywhere"

He hugged him tightly, and Matt reciprocated. It wasn't the first time the two of them shared fears; a sign of their powerful bond in spite of the incessant teasing. The fact that they were both afraid of the same thing – losing each other – felt comforting in a strange way. It meant neither of them was alone, and that was what mattered. After a couple of minutes, Terry tried to let go.

"Matt, you've got to go to sleep"

"No…please stay with me"

Terry sighed. The truth was neither of them wanted to be alone tonight, so he relented.

They watched the movie together, Matt falling asleep halfway through, while Terry held out for the whole thing. It was strange at first, watching an action/adventure/tragedy to "calm down". But it provided an outlet of escape, a fantasy to avoid real fears.

Except they couldn't really be avoided. Terry couldn't help but see himself as the T-800, trying to protect the Connors from a seemingly unstoppable killer. The ending didn't encourage him much either.

Was this what was coming? A threat to what was left to his family? If so, how would his story end? His death? Theirs? Both? He didn't have the answers. All he knew for sure was that he was too tired to be asking the questions.

When Mary McGinnis walked into the living room, she saw the brothers McGinnis on the couch, clinging to each other for dear life.

_Elsewhere_

Madigan carefully went over footage from the latest Mad Stan/Batman fight. It was but the latest video of Batman fights in a flash drive that contained every battle the Caped Crusader fought that had been captured on film. He went over it at least twenty times, frame by frame, before moving on.

Like any good strategist, Mad Dog was learning about the enemy. He watched his progress, trying to think of the best way to remove this most formidable of obstacles. Then he perused his quarry. Their photos were carefully placed in one of the files, as he tried to figure out how to target them. No need to rush, no-one would find him here. Nothing must upset the ultimate purpose.

After all, Terry had to learn the truth: that in a world of Madness, there was only **one** sane solution.

[Thank you again for your kind compliments and constructive criticism. A couple of points:

This is a long chapter. Brace yourself.

Accepting tNC's comment about Madigan, I have decided to erase the all-too-brief description at the end of PART VI. It has now been "canonically" replaced with the more fluid and gradual description in the following chapter.

3) I am fully aware that Max is perhaps the least popular character in the series. However, as I consider her important to the present storyline, I will try and make her as bearable as possible.

Enjoy J - aiwac]

PART VII: The Killer Instinct

Chapter 2: Step Two: Obsession

_BB + 1 year, _, Gotham City_

The alarm clock went off at 6:00 AM sharp. Madigan gently tapped the alarm clock and got out of bed. He washed up as best he could given the circumstances, and then commenced to the task at hand. Eyeing pictures of his quarry across the room, he prepared his tools for when the fun began. Everything was neatly laid out; the plans were all made. All the waiting and agonizing he'd had since Juvie was over.

Tonight was the night. Tonight the fun finally began…

_BB - 1 year, Jokerz Hangout, Southside District_

Bonkerz entered the abandoned clubhouse, clutching his side in pain. His comrades quickly came to his aid,

"Jeez, Bonkerz, what happened to you?"

"Some…ow…some dreg on the train saw me having a little fun with the other passengers and got in some lucky shots, that's all"

Madigan was suddenly awakened from his boredom and inquired,

"Did this 'dreg' have black hair, a mean right hook and a short temper?"

"Y…yeah, how did you know?"

"He's…a project of mine from Juvie. From the looks of it", he said pointing at Bonkerz' injuries with a cynical smile, "he's rapidly improving".

Bonkerz couldn't take the humiliation and pinned Mad Dog to the wall,

"You think this is funny? Who invited you here anyway?"

"I invited myself"

There was no sign of fear on his face, just contempt.

"Well, you've outstayed your welcome. Get lost."

"Have I?"

Madigan kicked him repeatedly in his injured side, easily dodging his few attempts at counterattack. Pinning him down and holding a knife to his throat, he spoke both to him and the rest of the gang,

"I've been with you degenerates for years hoping you'd evolve into something other than a bunch of rowdy punks who do nothing more than play childish games. I thought you were capable of causing this city to descend into real chaos, but you don't have the guts. Terry does, and if he has to train by beating up you dregs then all the better. When our time comes, you'll be the first to go"

He let go of his quarry and walked slowly out the door, knowing none of them would dare touch him.

Sure, he thought to himself, Terry thinks he's being a hero now, but all he had to do was slip once – become a little too angry or hit a Jokerz member a little too hard – and he would become what he was destined to be. All Madigan had to do was wait.

In the meantime, there was prey to be hunted.

_Hamilton High Hallway, 2nd Floor, End of School Day_

"Hey, Mom? I haven't been able to get in touch with Matt. He's not at home"

"Terry, I already told you twice, he's at a friend's house. I just spoke with him. I appreciate your concern, but I have a lot of work to do. I assume there's nothing else you're worried about?"

"I…I guess not. See you tonight, Mom"

"Bye, Terry"

Terry disconnected, the temporary relief of knowing made his hands steady again. Until next time.

"What's with the sudden concern for the twip? I thought you two barely got along"

Terry turned around to see Max.

"We don't, it's just...it's just that lately I've been getting this feeling that I, or someone close to me's being hunted…", he shook his head, groping for another explanation, "It's probably nothing. Maybe I've just inherited Bruce's tendency to assume the worst, kind of like Bat-paranoia or something", he said half-jokingly, half-nervously as he put the phone back in his pocket.

Max was used to these heart-to-hearts by now. She tried her best to help, though she often felt out of her depth. It wasn't the only time she felt this way; even now, she couldn't bring herself to completely close the shower curtains.

"Maybe it's just because you haven't had any real sleep for the past several weeks", she said pointing out the lines under his eyes. "Why don't you take a break? Even Bruce keeps telling you to slow down over the com-link"

A few months ago, Terry would have agreed, but things had changed. Looking down, he replied,

"I can't afford to, not now anyway. I still have a ton of catching up to do in the training department, and Gotham hasn't exactly been quiet. When I graduate I'll have a more flexible schedule; Bruce and I already worked out a timetable for next year. I just have to hold on a few more months."

"I'm not sure you're going to last that long. Why not take the rest of the year off? Make up some sort of illness or get Bruce to pull some strings. It's not like you don't already know more than what they're teaching here"

"Can't do that either. It would raise too many questions. People would get too curious. Besides, I need to spend at least **some** time away from the cave, be with other people…"

Just then Dana walked past them, gabbing away with Chelsea. Terry tried to get her attention but she looked and moved away with such speed, Terry decided not to pursue the issue.

"Speaking of other people, what's up between you two? She's so upset she won't even talk to **me** anymore"

"I don't know. She's been like this for weeks – won't return my calls or even say hello. I guess she finally got tired of me ditching her", he said with resignation.

Max's eyes opened wide in disbelief.

"You're going to cut her loose, just like that? After all the time you've been together?"

"Let's face it, we haven't really been 'together' since I started putting on the suit. Besides, people around me…around Batman tend to get seriously hurt or killed. It's bad enough I have to worry about Mom and Matt; I don't…I won't have Dana's life on my conscience as well. I'm cursed, Max. The less people that are near me, the better."

Max was going to retort, but the school bell rang and they had to split to their respective classes. Terry's questions and dilemmas remained in the air, unresolved, threatening to consume him just as thoroughly as those of an old acquaintance…

_BB + 1 year, Gotham, Northside Area, pre-RotJ_

Mad Dog sat in his chair, having completed another successful experiment. Yet instead of feeling elation, his mind wandered back to the troubling thoughts that haunted his dreams, pervaded his thoughts for months on end.

Batman was back. Batman. Even a year after his resurgence, Madigan still couldn't get his head around it. It was just so sudden; one day Gotham was a criminal's play ground, its citizens just an assortment of targets for having fun. Now Jokerz gangs were being broken up wholesale and Madigan himself had to be even more careful about his hunting habits.

Even more perplexing was the fact that Terry had still not slipped. Even the death of his father didn't cause him to finally snap. Days, weeks, months passed by with no news of Terry killing anyone. Now he was working as a gopher to some recluse billionaire at the edge of town. Madigan hoped he'd be wreaking chaos; instead he was helping the elderly. It didn't make sense. This wasn't how things were supposed to work.

Cut off from the Jokerz and hiding from the Bat, isolation began to slowly merge Madigan's twin obsessions into one. Terry and Batman were connected, they had to be. It wasn't a coincidence that Terry's father died only a week and a half before Batman's sudden re-appearance. The more he thought about it, the more he convinced himself the two were linked somehow. Maybe Terry's story inspired a Batman, maybe he worked with him. But Terry was at the heart of the Caped Crusader's resurrection, of that he was increasingly sure.

All he had to do was find some way to force Terry on the right path and everything would fall back into place. Things would make sense again. Terry just needed a little push.

_BB + 1 year, Studio 67 club_

"What about him? He's **really** cute"

"Yeah", Dana said faintly, a sad smile creeping up as she sipped her orange juice.

She'd lost count of the times Chelsea had tried to point out replacements for Terry in the past 10 minutes. At first, she protested, but now she just went through the motions. Which only motivated Chelsea even more.

"Come on, Dan, enough is enough. You haven't spoken to him in weeks. It was good while it lasted, but so was high school, and that's also ending" putting her hand on Dana's shoulder, she continued, "It's time to move on"

Dana sighed. It made sense, she just couldn't absorb it.

"I know, I know, It's just…I…can't"

Chelsea sighed. One day at a time – just like she dealt with her Father.

"Come on, let's hit the floor. I think we both need to forget about guys for a little bit"

They danced for hours, both of them drowning out their troubles in a mix of dancing and deafening electronic music. Before they knew it, they were sauntering towards their respective cars, holding each other for support.

"You know" Chelsea said, laughing, "I thought **you** were the one who was supposed to bugging **me** about my problems…"

"Yeah, well, a little role reversal never hurt anyone"

"Hey, knock it off with the shrink talk! It creeps me out! And you wonder why I'm staying with Jackie now?"

"OK! OK!"

They laughed for a few minutes and then separated. Walking to opposite ends of the large and packed parking lot, Chelsea disappeared in the darkness. Dana opened her phone to see if anyone called, and suddenly noticed the background on her phone. The painting. Her last remaining memento of Terry. It had been with her for so long, she never gave it a second thought. Just like Terry. She just couldn't imagine anything else.

Her thumb hovered over the "delete picture" button for a few minutes, her brain telling her to do what her heart couldn't. Quickly she closed the phone, preferring yet again to delay the inevitable. Maybe tomorrow. Chelsea would help her see it through.

__, Gotham City_

Madigan opened his phone to see the latest news item about the investigation into his experiments. So, they now found a name for him - "The Northside Butcher". He sighed. It was as good a title as any. He never much cared for the spotlight and publicity anyway. His predecessor loved the attention; his final reappearance and disappearance being a case in point – all showmanship meant for the cameras. Mad Dog preferred a different approach.

Chelsea slowly awoke from her chloroform-induced haze. She barely remembered the hand placed on her mouth, the brief struggle to get free. Her hands and feet were clamped down. She was on a table of some sort, a metal one. It felt as cold as ice.

She looked around the room. It was windowless, with strong fluorescent lighting; the walls littered with pictures of her and her friends. She desperately tried to get free, struggling with all her strength, screaming for help. She stopped suddenly when someone entered the room, her heart rushing in a panic.

He was a young guy, maybe twenty. There was little about him that seemed out of the ordinary. But those eyes, they were…dead. He looked at her the way a child might look at a bug, a cruel smile forming from his lips. Her heart beat faster.

"I wouldn't bother; those restraints have held people a lot stronger than you. The room's soundproof, so no hope there either."

Spoken with all the emotion of a corpse. He shrugged his shoulders and continued,

"Don't get me wrong, normally I enjoy watching prey struggle to get free. It makes it all the more...well, sweet. But you're here for a purpose, and you know, business and pleasure and all that"

"What do you want with me?"

Madigan ignored her and went on,

"You know, we have something in common. My father used to put me in an ISO room. He said it was to "improve" me, to stop my misbehaving. Guess it didn't work too well on me, me being the 'Northside Butcher' and all that. How was it for you?"

"Please…please let me go…I won't tell anyone, I swear. Just let me go."

"I believe you, I really do."

Madigan got out his tool kit and laid the implements on the table next to her. He continued,

"But I can't let you go. I need you to send a message to a mutual friend of ours"

"Wh…who?"

"Terry McGinnis"

"What? Please, I'll tell him whatever you want, just let me go"

He put his finger on her lip, calming her nerves.

"Chelsea, Chelsea…you are the message"

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Tonight was the night. Tonight the blood begins to flow.

PART VII: The Killer Instinct

Chapter 3: Triggers

_BB + 1 year, Studio 67 parking lot_

She stood on the spot where they say she was taken. No-one knew for sure, of course, since there was no physical evidence. But it was as good a guess as any. Still, try though she might, Dana still couldn't believe that Chelsea was really gone. No warning, not even "bad vibes" to warn her something was coming. It just did.

It felt so unreal…was this what Terry felt when he saw his father? Was he as angry at the world, as completely helpless? Did he blame himself as much as she did?

Dana kept racking her brain to think if she had seen anything or anyone out of the ordinary that night, to no avail. Worse, she couldn't help but think it was her fault for driving Chelsea away.

The accusing thoughts flooded her mind…If only they'd stayed together, if only she hadn't gabbed on about psychology, if only she had pressed harder for her to reconcile with her father, if only...Tears flowed from her eyes as she apologized to her friend for letting her down, for not being there to help her, to save her.

Lifting her phone and looking at the image it bore, Dana's helplessness slowly turned into firm resolve. For over a year, Dana had let Terry down, always thinking about herself and how little he paid attention to her. She'd even taken the final step a few days ago, erasing the painting he had so lovingly made of her.

Now she knew that while she had been obsessing over being left alone, Terry was sliding down a dark path, much darker than the one he'd taken to Juvie. Howard's revelation, the incident in the school hall, the image in the phone - it all added up to something, something awful. Dana didn't have all the pieces, but it didn't matter.

Whatever inhibitions she had left were removed by Chelsea's death. She couldn't save her friend, but she could still pull Terry from the abyss, whatever it was.

She got into her car. Her hands were steady, her goals clear. No more running or hiding. She would find out the truth about Terry and rescue him from the darkness, no matter what the cost.

She owed him that much.

_Gotham PD, Commissioner Gordon's Office, yesterday_

"Mr. Cunningham, I assure you, we're doing everything we can to find your daughter."

Barbara Gordon had been trying her best to remain civil with the terrified parent in front of her. Lord knew it wasn't the first time she'd done this. But it was becoming increasingly difficult…

"Well, you're not doing enough! Not even near enough! You've got more people on the Mayor's Ball detail than investigating this case! For all you know the Butcher already got to her!"

Barbara was going to ask where he got the manpower information, but thought the better of it. People like Kevin Cunningham always got what they wanted. The details didn't matter.

"We have such a large presence there because we have reliable information about a planned terrorist attack on the party. Several senior DOD people will be attending, and we can't take any chances…"

"Oh, but you can take chances with Chelsea? With all the people that maniac killed? What good are you, anyway, except for showing up on parades…"

"That's enough, Mr. Cunningham! I realize you're upset, but I won't let you insult my men, campaign contributions to my husband or no. They all put their lives on the line every day and most of them do damned good work. We do the best we can…"

"Maybe if you stopped hiding behind Batman's skirts, you could even catch some criminals…"

Barbara heard an almost imperceptible movement in the back of the office. Quickly shifted back to her immediate problem, she retorted,

"Mr. Cunningham, I don't have time to answer unfounded allegations and gossip coming from political circles. I have work to do, and if there are any developments regarding your daughter, you'll be the first to know. Now, you can leave by yourself or I can have my officers escort you out. Your choice."

The standoff continued for another minute, even though the outcome was never in doubt.

"This isn't over. I'll be back." Kevin Cunningham said menacingly as he stormed out of the office.

Barbara sat down, breathing a sigh of relief. Then she addressed the other problem,

"You know, you're getting a lot better at stealth, McGinnis. I didn't notice you until that twitch. Professional pride got hurt?"

Batman shut off the cloaking device and responded, all professional-like,

"Maybe. I guess trying to fill Bruce's shoes makes me a little more sensitive than most. Is there anything you can tell me that you didn't tell him?"

Barbara's eyes shifted a little before answering.

"No. I know about as much as you do. She disappeared three nights ago at Studio 67 without a trace. No-one's heard or seen from her since"

"You really think she could be tied to the Northside case?"

"I don't know", she said, "His last confirmed kill was several months ago. Still, maybe the publicity got his juices flowing again. Some killers like the attention."

"I don't buy it. This guy was incredibly camera-shy; did everything out of sight. There is no mention of him or his victims in news reports during the entire time he operated. No "calling-cards" or mementoes. Why change now?"

Barbara kept looking away from Terry and continued,

"Look, like I said, I know about as much as you do. I've got one of my best on the case – Frank Roland…"

"The same Roland who handled the New Renu-U case a few months back? Great, another member of my 'fan club'"

"Most cops didn't really like Batman when Bruce was wearing the cowl either, Terry"

Barbara looked up again and Terry was gone. She harrumphed,

"…and it's not hard to imagine why"

_McGinnis Home_

Terry snuck into the house, exhausted and frustrated. Between Mad Stan, Shriek and the terrorists at City Hall, he'd barely had any time to run down any leads on Chelsea. Not that it mattered, since he didn't have any. None of his many criminal informants had heard of anyone of her description being hurt or targeted by any of the "usual suspects".

It had to be someone working alone…but who? Chelsea didn't have any enemies that he knew of, and Sean Miller was still locked up at the Wolf Mountain psych ward outside of Gotham. The only logical possibility was the Butcher. The police had nothing, and Bruce was doing his level best to get him to stay off the case. In any case, he had nothing to go on besides vague newscasts.

There was nothing more he could do tonight, tomorrow he'll look into it, maybe press Bruce a little harder…

_He stood in the graveyard, but there was not a soul to be seen. Not Dad, not his Other, not even Mad Dog. Just him and the three graves…wait, three?_

_He knelt next to the foreign slab, brushing away the growth to reveal "Chelsea Cunningham"._

_He froze in place, disbelief quickly turning into terror._

_Suddenly a hand grabbed him by the coat, and she came out of the ground, a frightened look on her bloody face,_

_"Why, Terry? Why did you do this to me?"_

_"What? Chelsea, I'm sorry, I..."_

_She shook him more and more violently, _and then Terry woke up, finding himself in chemistry class, an angry Mr. Fuller looking at him disapprovingly.

_Hamilton High_

"I see you still find my classes boring, Mr. McGinnis. Tell me, can you explain the theoretical foundations of what we discussed in class today?"

Fuller hoped that Terry, having slept through most of the year, would finally be put in his place. He was thus surprised when Terry not only explained all the concepts, but added and elaborated on the latest research. He also pointed out where the textbook was giving outdated information. Every second that passed, he became ever more flustered. Beaten at his own game, he became incensed.

"A wise guy, eh? Get out! I'll send your demerit file directly to your Mother"

Terry obeyed without fuss. He had more important things to do than argue high school level chemistry. Leaving the room, some of Terry's classmates didn't know what was more surprising - Terry's knowledge or his quiet obedience.

Finally, out in the hall, he checked up on the latest victim of the Butcher. The victim should have been identified by now…

His hand shook when he read the item. His worst fears were realized – it **was** Chelsea.

Immediately, he called Bruce. Maybe now he'll finally unleash him.

"Come on, pick up, God damn it"

After a few rings, he answered,

"Terry, I'm in an important meeting. Can this wait?"

"Did you see the news?"

"Yes, is that all?"

"Is that all? A good friend of mine was just murdered by a killer you wouldn't let me go after! I might have been able to save her if you hadn't kept trying to keep me off the case! And all you have to say for yourself is "Is that all?"

His hands were shaking with rage, his teeth clenched so tightly he felt severe pain. Bruce didn't flinch,

"We'll talk about this later. Goodbye, Terry."

Terry put the phone in his pocket. The he hit the wall as hard as he could. Next came the row of lockers. One of the lockers opened by the force of the blow – his own.

That was strange; he was sure he'd locked it yesterday. True, he didn't have time to check when he came in today, being late and all, but still…

He looked inside, and saw a foreign object – an old piece of paper. He recognized it instantly, along with its author. The new writing in the letter filled in whatever blanks he had left. No, God, no.

Terry was so focused on the letter, now crumpled in his hands, that he didn't notice the school bell ring. He couldn't think on what to do next; he needed to lean on the lockers to avoid collapsing outright.

"Guilty conscience getting to you?"

Nelson was behind him, his two acolytes at his side. Terry ignored him, but Nelson persisted,

"You know, I was wondering why you were apologizing to Chelsea in your sleep in chem class. Maybe you had something to do with what happened to her"

Another time, Terry might have thought rationally, ignoring Nelson's feeble and ridiculous attempt to blame someone for his loss and find an outlet for his grief. But his last comment touched a nerve, and it was hard to stay calm.

"Get lost, Nash. You're sounding dumber than usual"

"Yeah? So how come you can't talk to me face to face? You know…I always knew you were trouble, but maybe I didn't realize how much. For all we know, maybe this Butcher is one of your old buddies from Juvie…"

Something in Terry snapped; an old wound reopened and gushing blood. He reacted accordingly.

Before Nelson knew what was happening, both his buddies were lying on the floor, writhing in pain. He tried to fight back, but not a single blow landed, while Terry delivered his with devastating effect. Within seconds Nash was on the floor, pain coming from places he didn't know he had. Terry continued the beating, throwing him into the lockers, and then pinning him to the ground, fist at the ready.

"You gonna kill me too, McGinnis?"

Nelson's bravery quickly dissipated as he looked into Terry's eyes. They seemed to say: I am going to tear you apart, limb from limb. His heart beat faster, his face changing from an expression of cocky defiance to a visage of mortal terror…

"Terry, please, I didn't mean it, I was just…please don't…"

"Terry, stop!"

He looked to see Max a few feet away, Dana a little bit further. His expression changed from rage to contempt as he let go of Nelson, running away as fast as he could.

Terry handed Max a note,

"Give this to Commissioner Gordon. Tell her I sent you. Don't read it."

Max knew Terry had a temper, but she'd never seen him speak and act like this.

"What just happened? Where are you going?"

Terry was already too far away, set on a collision course with his mentor. Concerned and curious, she uncrumpled the paper to see what set him off before putting it in her bag.

A few feet away, a horrified and startled Dana quietly took a picture of the note.

_Gibson Apartment_

She parked the car near the building. It was raining heavily and very windy, but that didn't deter her. She needed answers now, more than ever.

A week and a lifetime ago, she would have been scared to take her present path. No more.

Standing at the door, she banged with all her might.

"Open up, Max, I know you're in there!"

No answer.

"Max, I'm not leaving until you open up!"

She repeatedly hit the door with as much physical force as she could for a half an hour before Max opened the door.

"Open! The! Door!"

Finally, Max opened the door partially. A wet, furious Dana pursued her advantage,

"Where's Terry?"

"I…I don't know, maybe with Mr. Wayne…"

"Then maybe **you** can give me some answers…"

She held up her phone with the photo she took. An old letter written on Midtown Juvie stationery. It was short and to the point, with a bold new addition.

"See you real soon!

Mad Dog

**PS You like my latest handiwork?**"

PART VII: The Killer Instinct

Chapter 4: Confrontations

_BB + 1 year, Gibson Apartment_

There was an old saying - "a watched pot never boils". Max was hoping it was true as she stood in the kitchen to prepare tea for herself and her guest. Every second that went by made her believe she could delay the inevitable. Her muscles continually tensed up as she waited for the steam. Max looked fearfully at the living room, careful to avoid being seen, when the familiar sound of a whistle came from the room. Damn it.

She sat down on the chair facing Dana and carefully lay down the tray with the tea and cookies. Max started sipping her cup and taking a bite out of one her home made pastries. She even gestured with her head to the tray of goodies to Dana. Her guest didn't budge or even acknowledge the existence of the offered refreshments.

Dana's gaze remained fixed on Max, a tormented visage of pain and betrayal. Usually her eyes made one think of candies; now they resembled laser-sharpened knives piercing the soul. The fury in her expression seemed to make those knives white-hot. The thunderstorm that raged outside added dramatic effect to this already tense scene.

Max maintained the pretense of civility for as long as she could, eating and drinking. But that gaze – it was like a pot whose temperature slowly rose to cook the contents to perfection. Every sip of tea, every bite of a cookie, every burst of lightning turned things up just a notch. Eventually she reached the boiling point,

"Dana, look, Terry rarely tells me anything. I had no idea about the note before. Heck, before I saw it, I thought the 'Mad Dog' was just an urban legend told by Jokerz to scare kids."

All true, as it happened. Dana didn't change her expression, except to add a slight expression of contempt with her lip. Max sighed. OK, let's try another tack,

"Dana, I…"

"How stupid do you think I am, Max?"

"W-what?", she asked in disbelief.

"You heard me. You think just because you have a genius-level IQ, that means I'm just some bubble-headed ditz who can't see what's happening right in front of her face?"

"Dana, hold on…"

"You think I haven't noticed the way you've been covering for Terry for the past year? The way you share secrets behind my back? How you're always covering for him when he's doing things for Mr. Wayne? You…"

Max tried to slow down the avalanche,

"Dana, if you're accusing me of messing around with Terry, you're way off base. Jared and I have been steady for a year now…"

The avalanche accelerated,

"No, I'm not accusing you of **that** kind of betrayal, but something else. I think, no I **know** you know what Terry's really doing with Mr. Wayne. I want the truth, Max, and I want it now!"

Max tensed up, clutching the armrests as tightly as she could. Laughing nervously, she replied,

"What are you talking about? He works for a cranky old guy who has very strange demands and schedules. Nothing strange about that…"

The contemptuous lip curled up even more as Dana stood up and looked down at her host, arms curled up into fists,

"**Don't** pull that line with me! Don't you **dare**!"

"Dana, please…"

Dana leaned forward and put both her arms on the armrests of Max's chair. Getting up, close and personal, her tone lowered to an accusative, menacing voice,

"I've seen Terry fight before, including during his pre-Juvie days. I've never seen him wipe the floor with people like he did today. It was like he was a living weapon. Normal 'errand boys' don't have those kinds of skills. So don't you feed me that story about him being a normal assistant to the elderly…"

Max's breathing quickened and all her attempts to remain calm under investigation fell apart.

"…Dan…"

"What does he do for him, Max? Is he some kind of enforcer or bodyguard? Maybe he's a hit man? Wayne Enterprises does have a shady history…"

"What? Dan, no, I **swear** to you he's none of those things"

"Then what **does** he do?"

"nervous breathing Dana, I can't, Terry swore me to secrecy…"

Dana's angry breathing increased in tempo along with her nervousness for a few seconds. Then she broke off in the direction of the apartment door.

"Wh-where are you going?"

"If you won't give me the truth, then maybe Terry will. I'm going to the Manor."

No, don't go there. Anything but that.

"He's Batman!", she blurted out.

"What?" Dana looked in disbelief.

"He's…he's Batman. That's why he could fight like that. That's what I, that's what Terry has been trying to hide from you. So you wouldn't get hurt"

Max felt greatly relieved to unburden herself. Finally, no more lying. To her surprise, Dana simply seemed to get angrier, speaking through clenched teeth,

"Of all…the ridiculous…stories you could have come up with…"

"Dana, wait!", Max screamed as she followed Dana from the apartment through the maelstrom.

She was already in the car when Max caught up.

"Dana, at least let me come with you"

She was about to resist, but Max persisted,

"Please"

Dana relented when she saw the pleading look on her face. The door opened.

"Get in"

The car sped off. Max wasn't sure who she was scared of more at the moment – the driver or the residents of the house they were about to visit.

_BB + 1 year, Batcave_

Bruce was hard at work setting up the training exercise on the Batcomputer when he heard Terry kick down the grandfather clock. He walked down the stairwell, his whole body spoiling for a fight. His voice - low, menacing and determined, delivered the opening salvo,

"When. Did. He. Get. Out.?"

"Terry…"

"WHEN?"

The power of his voice seemed to shake the cave walls. Bruce maintained his composure,

"About two months after you did…"

"Why didn't you tell me this earlier? I could have taken him down, could have stopped him! Now my friend's **dead** because of you!"

Bruce flinched a little, the granite wall showing a few cracks. But he wouldn't back down. Standing at full height, he calmly returned fire,

"It wouldn't have done any good. He went underground over a year before you put on the suit and hasn't been seen or heard from since. We had no leads or even evidence he'd done anything wrong…"

Terry, a little off balance from the riposte, maintained his fighting stance.

"**I** could have found something. **You** could have found something, instead of hiding the truth from me and…"

Now it was Bruce's turn to take the offensive,

"Found what? And how? In case you haven't noticed, we haven't exactly had time for chasing ghosts. Would you have preferred we invested all our time going on wild goose chases instead of training and stopping crime?"

Terry, now standing five feet away from his opponent, absorbed the blow and breathed deeply. Now he fought a rearguard action,

"You didn't have to lie to me…"

Bruce ignored the remark and faced the screen, uploading the files on the Northside Butcher,

"It's a moot point. Now that he's resurfaced and his crimes exposed, we can…"

Terry inserted himself between Bruce and the computer.

"Why?"

"We don't know why he's come up now…"

"Why did you lie to me?"

Bruce looked down and just as fiercely,

"I think you know…"

Terry looked into Bruce's eyes, the unspoken communication between Batmen. He understood.

"Even after Powers, you still think…"

Terry stormed off.

"Where are you going?"

"To get some air. It stinks in here"

Well, Bruce thought as he perused the case files, **that** went better than expected.

_BB + 1 year, Wayne Manor, Master Bedroom, East Wing_

Terry sat himself in Bruce's parents' bedroom, the one place he knew he wouldn't dare enter. It had an eerie stillness to it, everything perfectly preserved - like an ancient tomb that underwent constant maintenance. Well, he snorted to himself, at least he respects **you**…

Looking out the window, the rain pitter-pattering at the visage, his thoughts finally started to crystallize. Chelsea really was dead, and Madigan, long just an abstract nightmare, was back; no doubt to finish the job he'd started in Juvie…

Worse than everything was Bruce's betrayal…How can I trust him? This is the second time in a year he'd hid something critical from me? How much more of this can I take? Should it be three strikes? Maybe two?...

_"You know he's only_ _trying to protect you…"_

_Terry looked to the side to see Warren standing next to him, watching the rain._

_"Yeah, he's sure doing a great job of that. Lying to me 'cause he thinks I'm still a potential killer. I'm so sick of being treated like a kid…"_

_"Terry, he's just worried about you…"_

_"Why? I could have killed Powers, and I didn't. Why isn't that evidence enough?"_

_"This is different."_

_"How?"_

_"Terry, you came within inches of sending Nelson to the morgue just because he happened to accidentally guess the truth. Put yourself in his shoes – wouldn't you be worried?"_

_"He could have at least had the guts to say so…"_

_Warren looked down and breathed deeply._

_"Maybe. Maybe he didn't choose the right way. Lord knows, we fathers try our best for our children. Even if we make mistakes, it doesn't mean we don't mean well…"_

_"Bruce isn't my father."_

_"He's the closest thing you've got to one right now. Besides, it's not like I didn't make mistakes myself…"_

_"You wouldn't have hidden the truth from me. You were always honest."_

_Warren looked down,_

_"That's…that's not exactly true, Terry"_

_Terry looked at his father confused._

_"W-what? When?..."_

_Warren looked at his son straight in the eye,_

_"You remember that day when we fought? You never thought it strange that I let you off so easy?"_

_Terry shook his head in disbelief._

_"What do you mean?"_

_"Has it ever occurred to you that I had already figured out what was on that disc, and that I wanted you to be safe?"_

_"No, no, no – you hid the disc in my stuff. You __**wanted**__ me to find it…"_

_"In such a way and time that you wouldn't be in danger…"_

_Terry resisted hearing it with all his might_, and then he heard a strong crashing noise, the alarm going off in his ears. Rushing to investigate, he cursed to himself,

"What the hell was that?"

_BB + 1 year, Entrance to Wayne Manor, 5 minutes earlier_

The ride was exceptionally quiet. Max could hardly believe the silent driver at the wheel had engaged in harsh interrogation just a few minutes earlier.

Finally, Dana arrived at her destination. It looked just as scary as it did that day she drove Terry the week after his father's murder. Opening the door, she looked at Max, motioning her to come. She begged off, laughing nervously,

"Umm…I think I'll stay here. You go on ahead"

Dana contemptuously closed the door and walked towards the intercom, the strong wind only slowing her down. All the lights were off, making her a bit hesitant. She pressed the intercom,

"Terry, I know you're in there!"

No answer.

"Terry, answer me!"

The only response was the howling wind and drenching rain. She got back in the car. Max tried to cheer her up,

"Maybe they went out or went to sleep."

"Yeah"

As she started the car, she took one last look at the mansion. The large gate stood defiant, a barrier even more intimidating and less penetrable than the walls at Juvie. It seemed to taunt her, forever cutting her off from him. Furious at her failure, she drove off.

As they reached the freeway exit, Max started to breathe a sigh of relief, when suddenly Dana hit the brakes.

"Dana, what are you doing?"

They went in reverse, and sped back toward the mansion.

"Dana…"

70. 80. 90. 100 MPH. Max closed her eyes and looked away,

"Oh, my God, Oh, my God, Oh, my God"

110. 120. 130.

Two powerful blows to the car and a couple of sharp turns were all she felt until the car came to a stop. When she opened her eyes, they were in the mansion itself, the heavy doors clinging to their hinges. Still breathing rapidly, she managed to utter a bare sentence.

"Thank God, we're still alive"

_BB + 1 year, Wayne Manor, Lobby_

Bruce was first on the scene with Ace. He surveyed the wreckage from the stairwell, looking pointedly at the perpetrators. One returned the favor, the other wished she didn't exist. Terry made it from the other edge of the mansion and stood aside Bruce, dumbfounded at what he saw.

Bruce was the first to break the silence,

"You know, it's customary to knock"

PART VII: The Killer Instinct

Chapter 5: Human Nature

_BB + 1 year, Wayne Manor_

"Dana, what the hell are you doing here?"

"I was going to ask you the same question", she said, a determined look in her eye.

Terry shook his head, confused,

"You came all the way here, smashed the gate and the door down just to check up on me at work?"

Bruce interrupted, his cane pointed at the breached entrance,

"That's coming out of your allowance, by the way"

Dana heard Bruce's remark despite his low, muffled tone of voice. Her blood quickly boiled as she ascended the steps, arms at the ready,

"Do. You. Have. Any. Decency. at all! It's bad enough you didn't do anything about Terry's father being murdered by** your** company. Now you've got him acting as your own personal enforcer and you don't even pay him a salary? You…"

Bruce's face hardened into a deep scowl at the charge, while Terry descended the stairs to defend his partner,

"Dana, what on earth are you talking about? Jokerz killed…"

"Save it! I know Derek Powers had him murdered. Don't pretend you didn't know!"

Dana matched Bruce gaze for gaze, and Terry tried to douse the raging fire,

"What the hell are you talking about? The police…"

Dana quickly shifted her gaze back to Terry,

"I had Wayne Enterprises hacked. I found this…"

She handed him the time-stamped draft. Terry perused it and then looked at Dana. Who could she have gotten to hack...Howard. That's why she cornered him that time.

His eyes closed as he bore the pain of yet another self-inflicted wound, the paper crumpling in his hand. Re-opening his eyes, he was just in time to see Dana resume her offensive,

"I've got copies, by the way, just in case you decide to make me disappear, as well"

"Dana, this is insane! He had nothing to do with this!"

The pain, the torment and the humiliation that had built up over the past year now bubbled forth, tears forming in her eyes as she spoke,

"Why should I believe a word you say? Ever since you came here after your father was murdered, you've done nothing but lie to me. You lied about what you do, you lied about where you were. You've even got Max in on the act, telling ridiculous stories about how you're Batman, for God's sake!"

Bruce and Terry's gaze shifted instinctively from Dana to Max, sitting in the car and wishing it had a cloaking device. It was harder to tell what was worse – the ice in Bruce's eyes, or the fire in Terry's. Terry looked back at Dana and tried to beat a fighting retreat,

"If you really think all this is true, why come here? Why not go to the police?"

"That's my next stop, if you don't come with me and get away from a guy who's making you kill for a living"

"Dana, I've never **killed** anyone! You **know** I wouldn't!..."

"How about beating people up? You sure wiped the floor with Nelson faster than 'Batman' would. You must get a lot of practice to have those skills…"

Terry hesitated a little. He felt blindsided. Even a champion fighter can only take so many blows before he starts to waver.

"That's what I thought…"

"Dana, you've got it all wrong"

"Really? Cause it looks to me like you're back on the "Charlie Bigelow" expressway …"

"It's not the same…"

"How?"

Terry had to think fast. As ever in the world of Batman, he had nothing but bad choices; the only question was which was worse. If he didn't explain, Dana would go to the cops. Even if he got Commissioner Gordon to keep things in house and her charges dismissed out of hand, people would still get curious. Word would spread quickly, and his 'disappearances' coupled with Batman's work would lead to **someone **putting two and two together. With Madigan watching his every move, it could mean disaster.

But the second option…No! It isn't a second option! It never was! He couldn't bear the thought…but he looked into those eyes. Here she was, Dana, the one person he could turn to during his hell in Juvie, the one person who always saw the good in him, looking at him as though he was a monster. He made one last try,

"Dana, I can't. You'd be putting yourself at risk."

"I'll take my chances"

"I'm serious, Dana! You'll be putting your life in your hands"

Dana took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She reopened them slowly. She spoke in a measured, deliberate tone,

"Your father died before you could make amends. Chelsea died before she could do the same with hers. I'm not afraid of death; I'm afraid to die before I have a chance to tell you how I feel. I'm afraid of letting you down"

"Dana…", he said as he put his hand to her cheek. She moved it away,

"I watched you go to hell and back once. I won't make the same mistake again. I love you too much"

Terry retreated a few steps as she continued,

"Either you tell me the truth, or I'm heading straight to the cops. I won't let him destroy you, Terry"

Terry stared back at Dana, a look of keen determination on his face. He closed his eyes, put the draft in his pocket, and clenched his fists, lost in thought. A few minutes later, he opened them,

"Come with me"

Both Bruce and Max reacted with shock.

"Terry, you can't seriously…", Bruce started in a surprised response. Terry shot him a look that said it all. He was dead serious.

"Forget it. There's no way I'll let you…"

Terry moved up to him and said calmly,

"My decision"

"You'll be putting her in danger"

The tone, though a whisper, was hard as steel.

"She already is. She deserves to know why"

The pain in his voice was palpable.

"They all deserved to know why. I never told…"

"I'm not you, and besides, you didn't keep it secret from everyone, either. People you cared about – Alfred, Barbara…"

"That's different"

"How?"

"I had to tell them"

"So do I"

They looked into each other's eyes, communicating as Batmen. Bruce understood. Even if he disagreed, it was clear Terry had made up his mind. For once he hoped his own instincts were wrong as he yielded, making room on the stair for him to pass.

Terry motioned for Dana to follow him to the study. He shot one last look at Max before disappearing from sight, his former antagonist in tow. Max suddenly made a dash for the stairs,

"Hey, wait for me!"

But the guardian was not as accommodating this time, blocking the passage with his cane. Ace growled menacingly and started barking. Max backed off, laughing nervously,

"Heh…uh…just kidding"

As she went back to the car, she said to herself, "Well, it was worth a shot"

_Batcave_

They walked into a large library covered in books, some of them probably a century old. Dana tried to take it all in without losing track of Terry, her silent and reluctant guide.

They came upon a broken grandfather clock in the middle of the room. The glass was shattered, but it stood erect nonetheless. Terry gave the pendulum a yank, and the clock moved to reveal a passageway. Terry turned around for the first time in the journey,

"Follow me. Don't. Touch. Anything"

She silently nodded and continued the journey. The stairwell led to what looked like an underground cavern. It was cold, wet and dark. She held onto the rocky walls to keep her footing as she navigated the passageway. What the hell could be down here? It's impossible to see anything…

"Lights on"

Upon Terry's order the whole cave was illuminated. What looked like a space age computer and some high-tech vehicles were now under the spotlight. She continued to marvel at them when they reached the bottom of the stairs.

"Wait here"

He disappeared into the dark areas of the cavern. She waited a few minutes, but every second in the cave was isolating and increasingly terrifying. It made her think of Chelsea's ISO experience. Her concern for Terry increased tenfold. When he didn't return as promised, she started to look around herself. Suddenly a series of glass cases were illuminated, suits of battle from wars past displayed like museum pieces. There was one missing…

"What part of 'wait here' didn't you understand?"

She recognized the voice and turned around; before her stood the Dark Knight in his high-tech armor. He cut a forbidding figure, one she'd only seen a few times before.

"Batman? Wh…What's going on? Where's Terry?"

He approached her and held her shoulders, looking into those beautiful eyes, so filled with warmth. The hands then moved from her shoulders to the mask, slowly removing the last remaining barrier between them.

Dana's eyes opened wide with shock when the mask was completely removed. It couldn't be, it can't, this has to be a trick…but that look in his eyes; it was the same faraway, determined look he had when he told her about his vow to Brady. She felt his face, his armor just to make sure this was all real. Finally she acknowledged the reality, her voice shaking from relief and emotion,

"Oh, my God. You are him."

The journey, it seemed, was finally at an end.

PART VII: The Killer Instinct

Chapter 6: Acquaintances, Old and New

_BB + 1 year, Batcave_

Relief washed over Dana as the reality set in, her fears about Terry replaced with confirmation of her greatest desires. He truly was the hero she thought him to be; always knew him to be. Her whole body shook from excitement.

Terry tried to speak,

"So, now you know the truth. I…"

Dana could hold herself back no longer. The core truth had set her free; the details were irrelevant. Just shut up and kiss me, Terry McGinnis, Dark Knight of Gotham. Terry reciprocated, his own repressed feelings for her these past several months bubbling forth.

They stood and turned around a few times, embracing each other as tightly as possible, almost suffocating each other. Then Terry opened his eyes. It was just for a second, but as fate would have it he saw the case of Tim Drake. A horrifying "flashback" came to his mind, only this time it wasn't Tim chained to a torture rack…

He pushed her back just as powerfully as he had held her, panting desperately,

"I can't…I can't do this…"

Dana, bewildered, tried to regain her bearings.

"Terry, what's wrong? Why…"

"I can't let it happen to you too..."

She came closer to her pained hero, trying to understand his sudden reluctance.

"Let what happen, Terry?"

Terry looked up at her, a business-like mask covering the initial terror,

"Dana, people watch me on newscasts and they think it's the coolest thing in the world – a masked hero fighting supervillains…Dana, there's nothing cool about it. Most of them are sick sociopaths who'd just as soon kill everyone I know if they ever found out about who I was…"

"Sociopaths like Mad Dog?"

The terror in Terry's eyes increased, his thoughts returning back to the "flashback",

"I…worse, if you can imagine that"

She looked sympathetically at him, but her eyes soon resumed the look of steely resolve she had when she first crashed into the manor,

"I don't care, Terry. I meant what I said before – I'll take my chances"

"Dana…"

"No, Terry. If you think I'm going to just leave here, you've got another thing coming. You made a choice when you put on that suit; now so am I. I'm not leaving you. Deal with it"

Terry looked into her beautiful eyes, and realized there was no dissuading her. Who knew she could be as stubborn as him? Sighing, he partially relented, holding her hands as he spoke,

"Allright, but we need to stay away from each other until I find Madigan. He needs to think we broke up so he won't go after you. After that, we'll be together, I promise. Please, Dana"

Dana became increasingly upset, the logic of Terry's caution doing nothing to assuage yet another forced separation, no matter how necessary. Finally, she replied,

"OK, McGinnis, but on one condition"

"What?"

"Lose the suit. Right. Now."

Terry relented, instinctively recoiling from defiling his mentor's shrine. As desperate as her, he took her to his bedroom in the back of the cave. Normally, it was for resting after exercise, but this time it would be used for a different physical activity. He closed the door, and then it commenced.

The barriers between them completely broken down; they tried to consume each other entire, the initial awkwardness giving way to smoldering passion. Time and space seemed to disappear in this hideaway, as they became one repeatedly, desperately trying to savour this escape from the dangerous world outside, to make love as if there was no tomorrow. For all they knew, there wasn't. Yet alongside the fear was also comfort, the comfort of being in each other's arms completely, without pretense.

When Dana finally left Terry, he watched her without saying a word, hope mixed with uncertainty. Did she mean what she said, about staying with him no matter what?

As the door closed behind her, he hoped they would never have to face such a test…

_BB – 9 years, Madigan Residence_

The door to the sealed room finally opened, as firemen Matt Granger and Bill Raymond piled through to see if anyone made it in before the fire consumed the house. It was pitch dark in this "panic room" and almost impossible to hear anything. Finally, they found the switches on the outside and activated them…

"What the $%&^ kind of "panic room" is this? No food, no lights and a soundproofer…", Raymond said as he looked around.

"I think this is an ISO room, Bill"

"What, like what they used in that torture "psych ward" in Casnia? I saw it on the news. God, that's sick. But if this is an ISO room, then who…"

Then they saw him, a scared, crouching little kid, about ten years old, silent as a lamb. Matt approached him slowly,

"Come here, little boy. It's OK…"

The child didn't move.

"It's OK, son, no-one's going to hurt you anymore. You'll never have to go back to this place ever again. I promise"

Upon hearing the guarantee, he grabbed his hand and grabbed on to him with all his might.

Outside the wreckage, the two firemen discussed the fire as the kid sat nearby,

"So it's arson?"

"Well, we'll need to run some tests to confirm, but yeah."

"Any suspects?"

"Well, Derek Powers **was** trying to buy his share of the waterfront and the Northside…"

"There's an investigation that'll go nowhere. Just as well, bastard had it coming."

Just then, the charred body of John Madigan wheeled past them. Matt saw the kid smile slightly. He didn't know why, but that grin gave him chills.

William Madigan looked at the body with the satisfaction of a job well done. Now he was completely free. The world suddenly seemed full of possibilities…

_BB + 1 year, GCPD Comissioner's Office_

Frank Roland walked into the office and braced himself. Everyone from the mayor to bereaved family members to the Governor's office was breathing down Gordon's neck to get this case solved and find the monster that was terrorizing Gotham. Even if it was just for show, she needed to put pressure on him, the primary investigator for the Northside Butcher.

As the door closed, the grilling began,

"So what do we have, Frank?"

"Well, we have a viable suspect thanks to that anonymous tip. Madigan matches the profile and pretty much everyone who knows him thinks he could have done it."

"But…"

"We can't find him."

"You can't find him? You've got half the force looking for him!"

"And so far they've turned up squat. We're looking down every lead, but it looks like this guy knows how to disappear."

"So what you're telling me is that you've got nothing…"

The look of disapproval in Barbara's eye was not an act. She was genuinely disappointed.

"Not exactly…"

Barbara cut him off,

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, I got to thinking…"

"Always a good sign"

Roland ignored the quip and continued,

"All of Madigan's previous victims were random. No discernable pattern, no connection at all between the victims or to the Mad Dog"

"Get to the point, Frank"

"This latest victim, Chelsea Cunningham, she doesn't fit his usual MO. Her body was laid out in the open, no signs of torture except a 'memento' that was taken post-mortem. The kill was clean."

"Then we have a copycat?"

"No, it's him, allright. The positioning of the restraints, the types of blade – it's his signature. No-one knows about the kill weapons except us, not even the looters who found the place"

"So, what then?"

"I think this wasn't an ordinary kill; that it was meant for someone – otherwise why not hide it? It's not like this guy's in it for the publicity. Gramps Harvey always said that in detective work you got to 'go with your gut', so to speak…"

Barbara silently chuckled as she thought of good old Bullock, staying on the GCPD after he retired. He'd helped Barbara rebuild the GCPD after the '09 near-apocalypse, a source of crucial support after her father passed on…

"So what did your 'gut' tell you?"

"That there was a connection between Chelsea and Mad Dog. I ran some computer checks, and this is what I found"

As Barbara took the file, he continued,

"Terry McGinnis. Goes to the same high school as Cunningham. He did 90 days in Juvie for a B&E three years ago. He and Mad Dog had a run-in in there. Joey Trenton's a guard there, he's an old friend of mine; he tells me Madigan became obsessed with this McGinnis kid"

Barbara tried to maintain a poker face.

"So you think he's going after him, after all this time? That's a little thin, Roland, even for you…"

"That's what my gut tells me. I think the Butcher is going to try and specialize in killing people close to McGinnis"

Barbara's brow creased as she thought, concerned. I wonder what's going through your mind right now, McGinnis?

"Allright, follow it up. I'll order police protection on his family just in case your hunch is right. Speak to Terry and see if there's anyone else we need to look out for."

She's on a first-name basis with him? Strange.

"You've got a problem, Roland"

"No, no problem"

"OK, then, get out and catch that SOB"

"Yes, Ma'am"

_BB + 1 year, Gotham Midtown Cemetery_

Three funerals in four years; all murders. Maybe he should get some sort of discount, Terry thought, as he silently endured yet another unnatural ceremony. Nothing came naturally to Terry here, despite his experience. It was still such a charade for him: from avoiding Dana as well as Nelson, to telling Kevin Cunningham how sorry he was, even as he saw the all-consuming rage in his eyes; it felt more like a badly rehearsed play than genuine human activity.

Suddenly, the phone buzzed in his pocket, prompting him to find a quieter spot. For once, he was relieved instead of annoyed. I wonder if Mad Stan's out again? I could use some comic relief…

Then he saw the caller ID. Chelsea Cunningham. It was him. He breathed deeply and pressed the trace button in the back of the phone. The phone felt 10 times heavier as he lifted it to his ear.

"Hello, Madigan"

On the other end, Mad Dog couldn't help himself from smiling. Once again, the world was filled with possibilities…

PART VII: The Killer Instinct

Chapter 7: Getting to Know You

_BB + 1 year, Gotham Midtown Cemetary_

Madigan took a second to enjoy his renewed contact with Terry. He was even more elated when he saw the advanced tracing signal on his screen. Too sophisticated for the GPD, it could only mean his hunch was right. Things were finally beginning to make sense again. Now to get the ball rolling…

"Hey, Terry, how are you doing? It's been a while…"

The friendly tone unnerved Terry.

"Not long enough, you psycho"

"Come on, Terry, is that a way for old friends to talk to each other?"

"We're not friends, Madigan"

"Sure we are, Terry. In fact I'd say I'm your only friend - your only real one, **anyway**. You don't have to hide what you are from me…"

Terry clenched the phone so hard it felt like it was going to break.

"My **real** friend is six feet under because of you…"

"She wasn't your friend, Terry. If only you knew how many times that little &^%$ tried to get your girl Dana to cut you loose in the last month alone…"

Terry closed his eyes, silently wishing she'd succeeded. The confrontation at the manor would have never happened. Dana would have been so much better off without him…

"Well, she succeeded. We broke up last night."

Terry tried his hardest to sound sincere. Let's hope it was convincing. There was a brief pause in the conversation, then Madigan replied,

"I'm…sorry to hear that, Terry"

The tone of his voice sounded almost like he was…genuinely concerned.

"Yeah, I'll bet you are"

"No, really, Terry, I know how much she meant to you, you sending her that e-mail after our little spat"

Now Terry paused, stunned.

"We own the hall, remember?"

Terry breathed deeply. Enough of this.

"Look, you want a rematch? Why don't we meet somewhere now and settle this once and for all?"

"Oh, I'd love to, and… we will, when you're ready"

"What's that supposed to m…"

"Look, Terry, I've, I've got to hang up before the trace gets too close. It was fun talking to you and we'll be in touch. Oh, and uh…say hi to Batman for me, will you?"

With that, he hung up. Terry checked the trace screen – Juno, Alaska. Where did he get the know-how and technology to scramble the trace? And how does he know about Batman? Just some of the many questions he would have to work on back at the cave with his partner. At least he had an excuse to cut out of the funeral. Texting Bruce to meet him in the cave later that day, he mounted his bike and sped off.

Don't worry about Batman, Madigan, you'll meet him soon enough.

_BB + 1 year, Wayne Manor_

Terry rode around Gotham for what felt like an eternity before going to HQ. Yet no amount of riding, no matter how high-speed, could numb the terror he felt. How many more funerals would he attend before he found him? The nightmare of rising graves he'd had a few weeks back rose up in his memory…no, NO! It's not happening. You've bitten off more than you can chew this time, Madigan. I'm not just some punk kid anymore. I'm the Batman. I'll make you regret you ever met me.

He parked the bike at the manor, pausing for a second to check out the foreign unmarked detective's vehicle parked just outside the gate. Who could Bruce be talking with now? As if he didn't have enough unsolved questions.

Terry walked slowly from the gate to the manor. It was a trek he'd taken a thousand times before, would take a thousand times over again. The burden of the journey felt especially heavy today, and he was keenly aware of every step of the way. Every stray rock, every crack in the road seemed more vivid. Yet he dared not look back.

The doors of the manor were back in their place; all the damage done by last night's events swept away. It was as if it never happened. Typical Bruce, he thought, smiling and relaxing a bit as he entered the castle.

He got up to the study to see Bruce speaking to…

Bruce got up, speaking all polite and friendly like,

"Terry, I'm glad you could make it. This is…"

"You're Frank Roland, the lead detective on the Northside Butcher case. I saw you on the news. What are you doing here?"

"Just some routine questions, Terry. Trying to cover all my bases, so to speak. I've just been speaking to Mr. Wayne about you. He says you saved his life…"

The normally business-like and gruff detective was being a lot friendlier than he remembered. First Bruce was nice, now Roland. Did someone put happy pills in the water?

"Yeah, a couple of times", Terry said with a snarky, all-knowing smile to the now-gruff Bruce. Now, **that's** the Bruce Wayne I know and love.

"Mr. Wayne, I need to speak with Terry in private."

"Not a problem", Bruce said as he left, all sugar and spice.

They sat down in the cushion chairs, Terry trying to relax as much as possible. Roland seemed be handling something in his pocket, not sure whether to take it out. In the end he took out his empty hand and opened up his old-fashioned pad of paper.

"So, what do you want to know?" Terry said.

"Your record says you spent 90 days in Juvie three years ago for a B&E on Washington Street with one Charlie Bigelow AKA Big Time?"

"Like you said, it was three years ago. I've changed since then. Mr. Wayne can…"

"Back when you were in Juvie, do you remember a fight with a William Madigan, AKA Mad Dog?"

"Yes"

"Do you remember what the fight was about?"

Terry took a deep breath, hoping he wouldn't slip up.

"A couple of days before the fight, I saved…tried to save a kid named Tom Brady from being beaten to death by Jokerz. Madigan taunted me over it. We got into an argument over it, then we fought"

"Is there anything more?"

"No"

Roland, with a look of disappointment, fished out a video memory chip from his pocket. He placed it on the table,

"Terry, you see that? That's the video footage from that day in the exercise room. It shows you holding a 100pd weight over Madigan's head. Are you really going to tell me this was just over some kid you saved?"

Terry had to think quickly. Roland held all the cards, now, but how to answer? _Over his head, his father seemed to whisper, "Just tell the truth…"_. Like there was any other choice…

"No. He claimed I was a potential killer, invited me to go to the 'winning side' instead of trying to change for the good. Then he threatened to turn my brother into him. I lost it, and I ended up with the weight over my head. He practically begged me to do it. But I couldn't, and that's on tape, too. I was a dumb kid, Mr. Roland, I did a lot of things I'm not proud of. But I've changed – just ask Mr. Wayne or Commissioner Gordon"

Roland smiled, relieved. The kid passed with flying colors.

"Anyway, what's this got to do with the Northside Butcher?"

Roland's expression changed to a concerned look,

"Terry, we believe Madigan **is **the Butcher"

"What?" Terry said, trying to look as surprised as possible.

"That's right. Your story confirms my suspicions. We now think he's gone from random killing to coming after people close to you, people like Chelsea, to get you to 'change sides'"

"But why, after all this time?"

"Does it really matter?"

"No"

"I've already ordered round-the-clock police protection for your family. Is there anyone else you can think of that Madigan would try to go after? Girlfriend, that sort of thing?"

Terry wondered if he should, then decided against. He couldn't avoid it with his family, but police near Dana would probably put her in even more danger. May as well just paint a big red target on her face…

"No"

"Are you sure, Terry? I have a blank check from the Commissioner to use any manpower I need…"

"I'm sure, thanks" he said. Roland started to get up.

"Detective, why did you need me to tell you all this? You had the video tape"

Roland looked at Terry, smiling sadly,

"To decide whether or not to let you keep that chip, the only one by the way"

Terry looked, surprised.

"Why would you let me do that?"

Roland looked down, his eyes locked in pain, and then he raised them again, the same sad smile on his face,

"The memory of another 'dumb kid', one who never got a second chance."

Terry looked at him quizzically. This is the detective who busted his chops while he was in uniform?

"Don't blow yours. Good luck, Terry" he said as he left the room. Terry smashed the chip.

Bruce entered a minute later, Terry braced himself,

"You heard the whole thing, didn't you?"

"Yes"

Terry tensed up,

"Look, I didn't have a choice. He had the…"

"Relax, I know you didn't. Besides, it's over and done with. Right now, we've got a killer to catch, and fast"

Good old Bruce. Solid and unmoving as a rock. That slow confidence that helped him in the tough times before seemed to do so now as well. He breathed easier.

"Right behind you"

Bruce stopped,

"By the way, what were you doing in my parents' bedroom yesterday?"

Terry backed up a bit, fearful of the accusative scowl. He scratched the back of head, looked down and then back up again,

"I…I was talking to Dad. It won't happen again, I swear"

Bruce's eyes softened when he heard the reason, and he cracked a warm smile. Well, warm for Bruce, anyway,

"What did he say?"

"With all due respect, that's between him and me"

Bruce's smile widened,

"Fair enough. You go into that room again, though, you won't see any allowance for a decade"

Terry smiled,

"Fair enough. Now let's go find this guy"

_BB + 1 year, _, Gotham City_

Madigan sat in his _ad hoc_ study, musing his conversation with Terry earlier that day. It was so good to finally talk to him again, and it was nice to know he could still rattle his friend so much. Now that introductions had been made, he could move on to the next step in Terry's education.

He turned to his computer, staring at the screen. Teaching the second lesson would be tricky. Both the police and Batman would now be on his tail, and his intended target had a constant escort. Much though he hated to admit it, he needed help on this one. The mission was too important to be lost because of his ego.

Going over the list of possible assistants, he finally found who he was looking for. The perfect sub who could kill both birds with one stone, leaving him to focus completely on the third and final stage of Terry's transformation.

Now all he needed to do was set up the job interview…

PART VII: The Killer Instinct

Chapter 8: Hunter and Prey

_BB + 1 year, Southside Jokerz Hangout_

Bonkerz felt good to finally walk around with his costume and make-up on. Six months at that hell-hole "rehabilitation" ranch north of Gotham was quite enough. Time to have some fun.

He entered the disused factory, and the first thing he noticed was the deafening silence. What happened? Night like this, the place should be crawling with Jokerz ready for a good time...

A shadowy figure started to appear from one of the dark corners of the room. Bonkerz regarded it with suspicion, sighing with relief when he realized who it was.

"Hey, Jecko! How's it been? Where's everyone else? The club get moved when I was away?"

Jecko didn't respond at first. As Bonkerz moved closer to his companion, he noticed that his friend had changed drastically. He looked tired, haggard, not the free-wheeling clown he knew and loved.

"Jecko, are you OK? You look slagged."

"I've been hiding", he said as he nervously looked around.

"From who? And where is everybody?"

"You didn't hear? The Bat got them"

"The Bat? Come on, Jecko, he doesn't waste time on small-timers like us. Stop kidding around"

Bonkerz dismissive attitude only increased the look of terror on Jecko's face.

"I'm **serious**, man. It's open season on Jokerz. People are taking off their make-up in droves. Only place that's safe nowadays is the sewers, and even then…"

"But why…"

Suddenly there was a faint noise. Bonkerz looked around, demanding, "Who's there?" His breathing rate grew steadily faster, his fists clenched in preparation. Sweat ran down his brow.

"Jecko, are you OK? Jecko?"

No response. He turned around and suddenly his breathing stopped. Batman stood in place of his friend,

"Bonkerz, right?"

He tried to fight, but one blow to the stomach sent him to the floor reeling in pain.

"Go ahead, I won't tell you nothin'"

Terry picked his suspect up, holding him by the scruff of his shirt,

"Is that so?"

They flew up, through the ceiling, rising in altitude at breakneck speed. Bonkerz continued to breathe faster and faster, his face trying to maintain what was left of his cockiness. They ended on a ledge of one of the super-skyscrapers; Batman's arm the only thing preventing him from repeating his experience in the opposite direction,

"Where's the Mad Dog? My arm's getting tired"

Bonkerz' breathing rate was outpaced by that of his heart, but he still couldn't resist a taunt.

"You…you don't have the guts to…AAAAAHHHHHH!"

He fell just as fast as he had ascended. Everything flashed by so quickly, including the rocketing Batsuit that went passed him and caught him before he finished his fall. Soon they were on the ledge again and Batman pinned him to the wall, his voice full of menace, "Want to go another round?"

"No, no", he said, desperately trying to catch his breath, "Please, please…I'll…I'll tell you whatever you want to know"

"Mad Dog. You were one of the last people to see him before he went underground. Where is he?"

"I…I don't know, I swear. We argued and we got into a fight and then he left. I haven't heard from him since"

"Then what good are you to me?" Terry asked, starting to shift his weight towards the ledge…

"No, please! I'm telling the truth! If I knew where he went, I'd tell you, I swear. He just…he just came and went as he pleased. No-one knew where he came from or where he went when he wasn't with us…Please, please let me go"

The look of abject terror appeared genuine. He was telling the truth. *&^%. Terry dropped Bonkerz, who kissed the ground of the ledge, his savior. As he prepared to take off, Bonkerz asked,

"Hey, you find that psycho, could you…could you give him one for me?"

Terry narrowed his gaze,

"Count on it"

Bonkerz got up slowly, wincing with every movement. Somehow, the "rehabilitation" ranch didn't sound so bad anymore…

_BB + 1 year, Batcave_

Terry walked quickly from the Batmobile, his fists clenched in rage. He took off the mask and the suit and put it in the glass stand. He looked at the suit for a few minutes, then finally lost control and smashed the case. Bruce, sitting at the computer, spoke without turning around,

"I take it you hit another dead end"

Terry responded, also without turning around,

"Yeah…and that's the last lead I had with a Jokerz who'd ever actually **met** Madigan. To everyone else he's just a Kaiser Soze"

Bruce turned around, puzzled, "Who?"

Terry turned around as well, "Kaiser Soze. From the movie _The Usual Suspects_."

Bruce didn't answer. Terry continued in an annoyed tone,

"Come on, Bruce, that movie was from your time!"

No response.

"Anyway, that's four weeks of hunting down leads with nothing to show for it."

"No, not nothing. The Jokerz are broken and on the run in most parts of town. Between that and the other people we've put away, Gotham is safer than before thanks to Batman"

Terry's eyes narrowed as if to engage, but his voice betrayed pain and fear,

"Meanwhile 'Batman' gets up every morning wondering whether he's going to find an empty apartment where his family used to be, all because he tried to save a kid who ended up dead anyway."

Bruce approached his partner, trying to soften his demeanor,

"I know how you feel. Did I ever tell you about the time Commissioner Gordon, Jim Gordon, nearly got killed because…"

"No…no", Terry reacted instinctively, shaking his head and holding back the tears, "I know what you're trying to do, Bruce. But it's not the same."

I know, he said to himself. It was so absurd. He was Batman, he was the night. He'd seen everything, gone through every imaginable hell. He could outwit any enemy he knew. Yet here he stood, unable to help his partner because his world was still partially intact. How horribly ironic.

He put his hand on his shoulder and in the nicest voice possible spoke to him,

"Terry, go upstairs and get some rest. You've done all you can for now"

For once, Terry obeyed without an argument and left the cave. Bruce went back to the computer to go over Madigan's file once again, hoping to find something he'd missed. We'll find him, McGinnis, we've got to.

_BB + 1 year, Wayne Manor_

Terry collapsed onto the bed and blacked out. Exhaustion had finally overcome him. When he woke up, _Warren was on the bed, looking outside the window. When he saw Terry move, he looked at him, that kindly fatherly face beaming with warmth,_

_"How did you sleep, Terry?"_

_"How long was I out?", he said, rubbing his eyes._

_Warren laughed, "Long enough"_

_Terry sat down next to him, and Warren turned serious, putting his hand on his son's shoulder. It felt good._

_"Terry, you're going to get through this"_

_"How do you know? Even Bruce can't help me with this"_

_"I know you, and you've braved a lot of storms. You can brave this one"_

_"How?"_

_Warren looked into his son's eyes,_

_"Let go. Accept that not everything is in your control. That it's not always your fault if bad things happen to those you care about..."_

_Terry's thoughts went back to his father's revelation a month before, when he told him he'd deceived him to keep him safe. His head shook, his eyes shut from the pain and the guilt of that day…_Knock, knock.

"Come in"

"Sorry to interrupt, but I think I've got something"

Terry practically leapt at the chance. Better to follow any lead than continue to look into the darkness within. They got to the computer, and Bruce explained how the Batcomputer had turned up no discernable pattern in Madigan's choice of victims – either in type or location. It was all completely random. What's more, he never left any evidence. Terry, disappointed, lashed out,

"We knew that already that! You dragged me down here just to state the obvious! You…"

The look in Bruce's eyes told the story. No, you know something, but you want me to find it. This is a test, isn't it? He looked at the screen with the data and tried to understand what to look for. He closed his eyes, started the "slowing" technique he'd learned from Shafer. Then he re-opened his eyes, his focus crystal clear, the entire picture lay before him. Wait a minute…

"It's…it's too random. If it was truly random there would be some repetitions. And, and the evidence…how is it that he didn't screw up even once unless…unless he had help. Someone to teach him how to kill and get away with it…"

Bruce smiled with pride, his silence paying off. Terry was still a little confused,

"But who? None of the Jokerz is smart or crazy enough for that. Then there's his father. I mean, sure he was as nuts as mad Dog, but he was just a businessman. Besides, he died before he would be old enough to kill…his uncle. George Madigan. But he swore he didn't know where he was, both to me and the police. I believe he was telling the truth."

Only now did Bruce speak,

"Maybe he doesn't know where he is now, but I'm sure he knows more than he let on. We just need to ask him the right questions"

"I'm on it"

Terry beamed and ran to put on the suit. As he closed the hatch to the Batmobile, he hoped once again that his fears of waking up alone would soon be over.

_BB + 1 year, _, Gotham City_

He stood in the partially dark room, strumming his fingers impatiently against the wall. Madigan hated depending on others for his mission, and his prospective employee's tardiness only increased his disdain. Finally, he saw her come through the disused vent and morph into something resembling human form. Mad Dog left the shadows and approached Inque,

"You're late"

"Sorry, but it was a chore just to find this place…", as Madigan emerged from the shadows, she recognized him, "You're the Butcher, aren't you? I saw your face on the Gotham news websites…"

Her lip curled up in disgust as she realized she'd been had,

"I thought this was a meeting for a professional hit, not a wanted ad for assistants to loser psychos who chop up people into little bits."

"But this is a hit…"

"Sorry, but even I have standards", she said as she prepared to leave through the vent.

"Is that so? The way I hear it you're a laughing stock in this town. No-one will so much as think to hire you because of Batman. Hell, even terrorists won't return your calls after the Battlepod you stole ended up in the Gotham lake…"

Inque reversed course and grabbed at Madigan's throat. Madigan just laughed. He pressed a button on the remote in his hand, and suddenly the vent was sealed shut.

"Before you kill me, may I turn your attention to the shower heads in this room, all filled with a highly corrosive acid. The slightest pressure on this button, and there won't be anything left of you"

"You're bluffing. You'd die too"

"You honestly think I care?"

Inque looked into his empty eyes and realized that he didn't. Madigan continued,

"Your instructions are in the corner over there"

She let go of him and read her assignment. She especially liked the last part.

"OK, but I don't do freebies."

Madigan replied,

"I wouldn't expect any better from you. On the back of that piece of paper is the location of a suitcase with 5 million in cash credits. Consider it a down payment. There's 30 million more where that came from once you finish the job. But you don't leave here alive unless you take it. So, do we have a deal?"

Inque smiled. Soon Gotham would be her oyster again.

"Consider it done"

PART VII: The Killer Instinct

Chapter 9: Repercussions

_BB + 1 year, Residence of George Madigan_

Terry entered silently through the window, although he didn't activate his suit's camo mode. It was impossible to see anything at this hour anyway. He began scanning the room when suddenly he was almost blinded by bright lights. Before him stood George Madigan with a laser blaster as big as his arm. His hands shaking, he bellowed a threat,

"Get out of my house!"

Terry held his hands up to calm him down.

"Look, I just want to ta…"

"GET OUT! Or so help me I'll pull the trigger!"

"Mr…"

Madigan put his finger nearer the trigger.

OK, play time's over. Swiftly and before he knew what happened, Terry knocked away the rifle, leaving George falling apart at the seams, sobbing uncontrollably,

"Please, please don't kill me…I told you already, I don't know where he is, I swear. Please don't kill me…"

Either he was genuinely broken or an exceptionally skilled actor. Terry prepared himself for both possibilities, but decided to play along. He softened his voice,

"I'm not here to kill you, Mr. Madigan"

George started to calm down, and Terry let him get a hold of himself,

"Oh, thank…thank God. You…you don't know what it's been like. heavy breathing I've been getting death threats almost every day. My apartment was ransacked twice. Just…just last week, someone tried to shoot at me from across the street."

"Did you report it to the police?"

George looked at him with a look that said "you're kidding me, right?".

"I'm the uncle of a serial killer. I was his legal guardian for eight years. When they brought me in for questioning, they treated me like **I** was the one who cut up all those people. You honestly think they'd care if I got taken out?"

Terry swooped in on the opening,

"Like you said, you were his guardian. Mad Dog's oldest victim was killed six years ago; he'd have been about 14 years old. That means he was under **your** roof for **four years** while he stalked his victims, and you expect me to believe that you didn't know **anything**?"

George's agitation increased as he looked up at Terry,

"Look, I'll admit I wasn't much of a foster father. Hell, I didn't want the kid. But he'd just lost his father, and I didn't want him going through the crappy foster system in this city. But I didn't know anything about the killings, and you can do whatever you want to me, I'll still say the same thing, because it's the truth. Besides, by the time he was 14, he spent almost all his time with those punk Jokerz. My apartment was just the place the police would drop him off before he left again."

George slowly sat himself on the couch. Batman continued his interrogation,

"You said he'd lost 'a father', but he was your brother, as well…"

Madigan's face turned to an expression of scorn and hatred,

"I never had a brother. I had a monster I happened to be related to by blood. When I heard William was the prime suspect for these killings, all I could think was 'like father, like son'. You should look into **his** past. You'll find enough skeletons to fill a monster movie without needing CGI"

That was true enough. John Madigan had quite a few competitors and former partners 'mysteriously disappear' as he built up his real estate empire. The man could have given Powers a run for his money. George seemed to be telling the truth. Still…

"So you at least suspected…"

"That's **not** what I said. I said I wasn't surprised when I found out afterwards. I didn't know about anything he'd done"

"But you weren't surprised he was capable? Just because his father was a monster, or was there something else?"

George lowered his eyes in shame. He seemed to regret something very deeply. Sighing, he answered in a low tone,

"He seemed…off. Even when he tried to show emotion, I felt…I felt like he was putting on an act. At first I thought it was just because of John's death…but a few months after he moved in, I found a dead cat near the building. One of my carving knives was missing. I did the math."

"Did you do anything about it?"

"Sure. I sent him to a shrink. Cost me an arm and a leg – I even had to dip into William's trust fund. It seemed to pay off, though. Sure, he spent more time with him than he did at home, but at least he wasn't cutting up cats, and he was behaving well in school. Then he started getting mixed up with the Jokerz, I think he was about 13 at the time, and you know the rest"

Terry looked at George, a sad, miserable victim of circumstance. He didn't need to say why he didn't bother trying to discipline when he joined the Jokerz. He may as well have signed his own death warrant. There was one more thing,

"This shrink have a name?"

George looked down, again in shame.

"Mr. Madigan, who was William's doctor?"

George sighed,

"Billings. Dr. Ira Billings."

Spellbinder. It fit – the knowledge of technology, of avoiding criminal profiling. George continued,

"This was before he started walking around in a Halloween costume…no offense. I…I didn't know. I tried. I'm so…I'm so sorry"

George broke down again, the realization of his inadvertent hand in the murder of almost 30 people now staring at him in the face, after weeks of denial. "I'm so sorry"

Terry walked over and put his hand on his shoulder. He wanted to tell him how it wasn't his fault, but George seemed beyond consolation. That feeling seemed all too familiar. He took off, wishing that George would eventually succeed in getting past it.

He'd finally gotten the break he needed. Now he just needed to set up an appointment with the good doctor.

_BB + 1 year, New Stonegate Ultramax Penitentiary_

Barbara Gordon entered the interrogation room, quickly eyeing the almost invisible Batman in the corner. It felt good to have someone else in the room for this meeting. She looked at him sympathetically; her eyes seemed to say "Let's hope this is it, kid, for your sake".

Prisoner number 487190, Dr. Ira Billings, was brought into the room. The manacles were removed at Gordon's request, after which the guard left. He seemed curious and amused to be in the room.

"Well, well, Commissioner Gordon, to what do I owe the honor?"

Barbara's hardened poker face showed no trace of the disgust she felt,

"A former patient of yours, one who enjoys cutting people to pieces"

A slight smile of satisfaction formed from his lips as he replied,

"Yes, young William has become something of a celebrity…But if you want more information from me, you're going to have to give me some…incentive"

Barbara's lip curled up slightly,

"You tell us everything you know, I'll talk to the DA to have your sentence reduced by half. You'll still be able to walk upright when you leave here."

"Come now, you'll have to do better than that. I'm not going to give you information on Gotham's 'Public Enemy Number One' just so I can rot in here for another 30 years…"

"What do you want?"

"I want out, now"

"Not gonna happen. The most I'll do is have you transferred to Wolf Mountain Prison where you can see nature instead of just the cold four walls of your small cell…"

The smug look gave way to disappointment,

"Then this conversation is finished…Guard!"

"Of course, I could also have you transferred to Old Stonegate and dump you with the general population; I wonder how long a child-abusing lanky psychiatrist would last there?", she said with a cynical grin.

"You're bluffing"

"Try me", she said, taking out two official pieces of paper, "there are two transfer forms here – this one is for Wolf Mountain and the other for Old Stonegate. Which'll it be, Spellbinder?"

Billings looked increasingly agitated as Barbara seemed about to sign his transfer to the morgue.

"Allright, allright. I'll take the deal"

"Smart man. So", she said as she put the forms away, "let's talk about why you turned William Madigan into a monster"

"He was already a monster when he came to me. Did you know **he** was the one who set the fire that killed his father?"

Barbara shifted a little. That was unexpected. "Still, you helped him learn how to get away with killing for years. You used your background in criminology and forensic science as well as your technological skills to train him…"

Billings seemed to calm down now that he knew he would live, and his expression changed to a strange calm,

"You misunderstand me, Commissioner. I'm not a bad man. I help make people's fantasies a reality. Sometimes they're virtual and sometimes, in William's case for instance, they're all too real…"

"You're sick, Billings"

"I made **your** fantasy come true, didn't I? You wanted to take out the Batman. I just gave you what you wanted"

"I wanted to **arrest** him for a crime you made up"

Billings laughed and displayed mock empathy,

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Commissioner"

Barbara lost her patience,

"Enough with the games. Give us something we can use to find the Butcher, or I'll send you straight to Old Stonehenge"

Barbara's loss of temper showed that he had struck a nerve, and that was victory enough for now. It was time to cash in,

"Go to the Washington Street Storage Facility, container number 59. You'll find a nano-drive with all my sessions with young William. You should find what you need there. Is that enough, Commissioner?"

Barbara squinted and clenched her fists. Making deals was the worst part of this job. It made her miss the simpler justice of her silent partner in the room.

"That's enough. Guard!" The guard entered. "Take Mr. Billings to his cell"

Spellbinder left, a grin of victory on his face serving as a contrast to Barbara's anger. Batman and Gordon left the prison to a spot just out of sight. Terry turned off the camo mode. He finally had what he needed.

"I'm assuming you'll let me have a look at those files as well."

Barbara glared, all business-like,

"I'll let you copy them before they're logged into evidence control. About what Spellbinder said earlier" she said, her eyes lowered.

Terry couldn't let worries of the past distract him. He needed to stay focused on the case.

"Forget it. We all have our dark side. We just need to make sure it doesn't take over"

"Spoken like a true student of Bruce Wayne", she said with a sly smile.

She looked up, and he was gone. A true student, allright.

Terry contemplated the last few days, hope beating in his breast with the latest revelations. He thought about his family, how they finally wouldn't have to go without police escort. He thought about Bruce and further training after the case was over. Most of all, he thought about how good it would feel to finally be in Dana's arms again.

Enough about the future, focus on the present. Today was "take your son to work day" for Mom. In this case, the son was Matt.

Terry quietly laughed to himself. If Matt could avoid wrecking the lab and this lead would pan out, everything would finally return to normal.

_BB + 1 year, Astro Tech Laboratories_

Mary took her son out of the company car and locked the doors. The police escort Terry had arranged didn't follow her into the grounds, since AstroTech had their own security forces. She'd told Terry that he was over-reacting just because he was a friend of Chelsea's, but he insisted. Still, it was nice being so cared for by her son.

Once they were inside, Matt became almost impossible to cope with. It seemed every other second he was trying to get into the restricted areas of the lab or running away from the other kids. Finally, she agreed to take him on a personal tour if he would stop horsing around. Matt, all too eager to see all the "cool" stuff, agreed.

As they began to walk through the central corridor, Matt noticed something strange and immediately started tugging at an annoyed Mary,

"Matt, for God's sake, what is it now?"

"What's that blue gook coming through the vent?"

"What go…"

Mary froze as she realized what the "gook" was. Her hand held Matt's tightly, and all she could let of her mouth was a single word,

"Run"

PART VII: The Killer Instinct

Chapter 10: It's All Part of the Plan

_[OK, this is my first attempt ever at an "action chapter". Please be gentle (ducks tomatoes) – aiwac]_

_BB + 1 year, Astrotech Labs_

"Mom, why…"

"RUN!"

Inque saw her quarry run straight towards the trap set for them. The first part of the plan was complete.

Now for the fun part.

Terry continued his patrol, the copied files uploading to his computer via Barbara. It was a shame Bruce was abroad right now, but it was probably just as well. The files were heavily encrypted and would take a while to crack.

Terry picked up a distress signal from AstroTech Labs. He chuckled to himself, thinking about Matt tripping the alarm and probably blowing up half the lab. Still, better safe than sorry. Maybe he'd have a better chance at getting him to behave as Batman than as the Big Brother.

As the Batmobile neared the building, he noticed people leaving the building in a panic…including Mom and Matt. Leaving the Batmobile, he asked the security chief outside to explain.

"It's Inque. She's destroying the building. I lost two of my men trying to take her down"

Terry steeled himself, telling the guards to create a perimeter and wait for the police. "Is anyone else still inside?"

"No, they're all out…at least I hope so"

"Allright, I'm going in"

He ran into the cold grey building, fully alert, heart racing and ready for battle.

"Cool, Batman!", Matt cried as he looked through the back of the car, seeing his hero storm the grey fortress. It was better than TV.

"Matt, sit down and put on your seat belt!", Mary scolded as she wrestled the youngster into submission and clamped him down. "There", she said, victorious, "now let's get out of here" Matt folded his arms and made his usual angry face, refusing to acknowledge defeat.

Mary looked back at her workplace, relieved to be leaving the scene. She started the car and began to depart the battlefield. Underneath, a small device, barely noticeable and covered in blue liquid, lit up.

Terry looked for Inque through his red visor. He was now on the second floor of the building, an office floor with a long corridor and many work rooms, now abandoned.

He moved slowly, stealthily, arms at the ready. Finally, he dared his enemy out,

"Inque! Show yourself!"

"I was wondering when you'd come!"

Inque suddenly appeared from one of the vents, forming part of herself into a hammer and smashing Terry across the corridor. Her opponent stunned, she moved her entire mass to smother him. Terry activated the shock gloves in his suit and grabbed part of her. It had no effect.

"Not this time, Batman. I took a double dose of mutagen before I came here. It doesn't even tickle now."

Terry, gasping for air, pressed the shock button on his belt, but it still did nothing.

"Running out of tricks, are we?"

"Not…quite", Terry said as he moved into a crouching position and set off the jets in his boots. Inque recoiled in pain as Terry launched to the other side of the corridor. She recovered quickly and continued her pursuit, intent on finishing the job.

Terry noticed a nearby fire hose, smashed the glass and opened up on her. Inque tried to dodge the torrent but Batman eventually scored a direct hit. Inque was hurt but she quickly reformed. That double dose must pack a wallop, Terry thought, just as blue spikes slashed the fire hose and rendered his weapon useless.

OK, time for a Plan B.

"I wanted to see Batman! I wanted to see Batman!"

"Matt, keep quiet!"

Aside from Matt's temper tantrums, things went smoothly on the road. We're almost home, she thought, as she tried to slow down as they entered the residential area. But the car stayed at its previous speed. Getting nervous, she hit the brakes but they didn't seem to work either. The car's computer showed a "locked" screen which paralyzed its controls. Nothing she did fixed the problem and the pedals were useless.

She drove desperately through the streets, trying to avoid the cars and the pedestrians. Here a car she barely missed, there a biker ran off the road. Matt seemed overjoyed, especially when the police escort gave chase.

"Cool! Now **this** is fun!"

Mary snapped at Matt, "Matt, honey, I love you, but shut up!"

She tried to maneuver to get back on the freeway, where she would at least be safe speed wise.

"Matt, take Mommy's phone and call the police. Tell them that the car's controls are locked and…"

Just then, a truck appeared from the left. Swerving to avoid it, the car scraped a nearby building and turned over. They flew in the air for a few seconds before crashing down and skidding along the pavement. Finally, the car came to a stop.

There was an eerie stillness, a silence that seemed worse than all the noisy drama that had preceded it. The car was completely silent.

Inque tried once again to smother Batman. Terry cut through her with his grinding tool and then blinded her with a flash grenade. Running as fast as he could, he accessed the Batcomputer remotely,

"Computer, search for the location of cooling agents in Astrotech Labs"

"Searching…there are two primary locations. The laboratories on the fourth floor and the liquid nitrogen supply trucks on garage level -2."

The lab was too dangerous; too many other chemicals that went boom. The garage it is. Terry forced open the elevator doors, just in time to see Inque turn the corner and pursue.

He threw another flash grenade and then used his hookshot to latch onto the wall. He then descended the shaft, stopping at level -2. Inque descended rapidly in spider form, determined not to let her quarry get away.

Grabbing onto the wall opposite the elevator doors and letting go of the hookshot, Terry rocketed into the doors, knocking them out of the way. Seeing his goal, he ran toward the trucks. Inque came through the broken doorway and gave chase.

Terry threw a Batarang at her which just sliced through her and ended up near the fire hose. Extending her arm, she smothered Batman's head and smashed his head against the garage roof repeatedly. Terry activated the claw-hand function in his suit and with his remaining strength sliced through Inque. After falling to the ground, he tried to hit the water pipes above with a Batarang, hitting the ceiling above instead. He lay near the trucks, appearing groggy and exhausted.

Inque regarded her weakened prey with amusement, as she prepared to finish the job,

"And to think I started to take you seriously…Goodbye, Batman"

The Batarangs which Terry threw, explosive ones with a delayed timer, now detonated, spraying Inque with water from two different directions. Inque screeched in pain as the water started to dissolve her into parts.

With only seconds before she reformed, Terry got up, ran to the side and sliced open the liquid nitrogen trucks with Batarangs.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!"

Her screeches got louder as she desperately tried to avoid the freezing liquid, to no avail. Panting with relief, Terry watched as Inque froze into several little blue pieces. It was over. Terry made a mental note to thank Matt for making him watch T2 to the end.

A few minutes later, Commisioner Gordon arrived with her men. She ordered the water main turned off, and had her men pick up what was left of Inque. Once they were done, she barked,

"I need a moment alone…not you, Batman"

The police obeyed. Terry, hurt but exultant at his victory, smiled,

"Pretty impressive, huh? I did it all on my own"

Barbara looked at him with concern, confusing Terry,

"What?"

"Terry, you need to go to Gotham General right away"

"I'm fine! This is every day of the week for me"

"No, Terry. I'm sorry to have to tell you this but…"

Terry's elation changed to horror when Barbara told him what happened. All he needed to hear were the words accident and his family in the same sentence.

All he could utter was one word, barely forced out against the strain of emotion,

"No…"

PART VII: The Killer Instinct

Chapter 11: Power and Powerlessness

_BB + 1 year, Gotham General Hospital_

Terry sat in the empty hall for hours, his eyes lost in space and unable to focus. It was as if he was refusing to accept where he was and why. Try though he might, there was no escape from this, no diversion, no comfort. He remained still, hoping that this was just a nightmare that would go away, knowing it wasn't.

Just as he was about to finally collapse from exhaustion, a familiar figure appeared, seemingly from nowhere. It was Bruce, standing over him with a large plastic bag. Elated as he was to see him, he could only manage to lift his eyes.

"I left Europe as soon as I heard what happened. How are they?"

Internal injuries. Severe trauma. Touch and go. These were the only terms Terry had managed to absorb when he heard the doctors discuss Mom and Matt. He lowered his eyes,

"Not good"

Bruce lifted the bag in his hand, his voice softer than usual,

"I stopped by the manor to pick up some provisions. I figured it's been a while since you've eaten, knowing how you drive yourself. I also made you some soup" he said as he removed a plastic container from the bag and held it out, "there's a microwave down the hall if you like it hot"

"Thanks" Terry weakly replied as he took the container and lay it on the ground with the bag of food.

Bruce sat himself alongside Terry, cupping his hands together. The gesture calmed him. Breathing deeply, he let himself acknowledge the reality of the situation,

"It was a diversion. The whole thing was a diversion, a &^%$ing setup, and I fell for it, and now Mom and Matt…"

Bruce cut him off, "Let's go somewhere we can talk privately"

Terry meekly obeyed, following him to the rooftop of the building, away from cameras and prying eyes and ears. Bruce continued the conversation, "Once again, from the beginning"

"The jamming device they found on Mom's car; it had traces of Inque and Madigan's fingerprints. The sabotage at AstroTech was just a diversion to keep Batman occupied. It was a basic decoy and I fell for it, and Mom and Matt paid the price."

He walked to the edge of the roof and held onto the steel railing, squeezing it and resisting the urge to leap, "I was so proud of myself. I thought you'd be proud of me, finally taking her down on my own. Guess I haven't learned anything since I first put on the suit. Some Batman I turned out to be."

Bruce approached him, the scowling face masking deep concern,

"Terry, this was no simple diversion. Madigan could have organized any number of decoys with his resources. The fact that he hired a high-priced and lethal mercenary like Inque means that he didn't want Batman to leave that building alive. This was a carefully calculated hit, an attempt to take out both your family and Batman in one shot. Thanks to you, he failed."

Terry didn't seem to change his expression, "That's only because I got lucky. I should have known there was something else…"

"How? How exactly could you have known? There was no evidence to suggest this was anything other than simple industrial sabotage. There were innocent civilians that needed protection. You did the right thing. There was nothing else you could have done"

Terry looked at his partner and replied,

"Then what good am I? What good is Batman? All the technology and skills in the world and I can't even protect my own family!"

"That's not true, Terry. You saved your family numerous times. Do I have to remind you how you stopped the Joker from killing them last year? Or preventing Kobra from killing them and everyone else in this city with bioweapons?"

Terry seemed to be paying attention now instead of digging himself further into the abyss. Good.

"For the record, taking down Inque was an impressive bit of work. Your skills as Batman have improved tremendously in the past year. But you can't be everywhere at once, and you can't possibly know everything. You're not God, Terry."

"And apparently neither is Batman", Terry said as he looked away at the skyline, the pain coursing through his veins, "I knew that when I took this job. I knew it wouldn't bring Dad back. It's just…it's just that today" he said as he looked at his partner, tears forming in his exhausted eyes "Today I really wish he was"

Bruce put his hand on Terry's shoulder and squeezed it tightly.

"I know, Terry, I know"

_BB + 1 year, GCPD Headquarters, Rooftop_

Frank Roland stood and surveyed the skyline, a hot cup of lousy coffee in his hand. He remembered how old Gramps Harvey used to say that no technology in the world could improve the quality of cop coffee. God, he missed him.

He heard familiar footsteps behind him on the roof.

"Evening, Commish"

She moved next to him on the roof, hand in her pockets. Her business-like demeanor couldn't hide how worried she was for Terry.

"Evening, Frank. How are you holding up?"

Roland took a sip of his coffee and replied,

"Lousy. Someone killed George Madigan with a laser pistol last night. So now I have two murderers to hunt down. Between that and hearing what's happening to McGinnis, I'm feeling pretty useless right now"

"You really care about this kid, don't you?"

"You could say that"

Barbara turned around and sharply replied,

"Is that why you destroyed the video from Juvie instead of turning it over to evidence control?"

Frank looked in shock. How did she…

"Is this the part where I turn in my badge and get suspended?"

"That depends. You crossed a line, Frank. If you tell me why you did it, and if I find that reason sufficient, I **might** let this slide"

Frank took a deep breath, took a sip of his coffee and began his narration, his eyes fixed on the skyline,

"When I was a teenager, I was part of a small group of troublemakers. There were three of us – me, Joey Trenton and Harry Mason. We didn't do anything serious at first. Just the usual stupidity – property destruction, street racing, that kind of $%^&. No-one ever got hurt. One day, that changed. Harry got into an accident with a car he'd stolen. The guy in the other car was paralyzed for life.

When he came back from Juvie, no-one wanted to have anything to do with him – his parents, his girlfriend, us. We pretended he didn't exist, as if we were somehow superior to him because we were lucky not to actually hit anyone. He tried to change. Did community volunteering, got better grades. But all anyone ever saw was a punk kid who put someone else in a wheelchair.

One day, I came back from school only to hear that he tried firing at a cop car with an old hunting rifle he stole from his Grandfather"

"But that's suicide!..." Barbara saw in Frank's eyes and understood. Exactly.

"We found the note later that day. Talked about how he didn't want to be a burden anymore. I'll never forget how we all stood there at the funeral, feeling like we'd pulled the trigger ourselves"

Frank took another sip of his coffee and continued,

"I see this McGinnis kid, and I see Harry. Except he got a second chance – a good job, a good relationship with the Commissioner. Then I see this tape. What happens if, when it leaks in a media-heavy case like this? Wayne fires him, you turn a cold shoulder. Next thing you know, he's another death statistic, or worse. That's why."

Barbara chuckled to herself knowingly. If only he knew…

"Allright, Frank. You're off the hook this time. But I'm watching you"

She left him to continue his thoughts. Frank raised his cup and toasted the skyline,

"Here's to you, Harry"

_BB + 1 year, Tan House_

Dana finished what must have been her 35th cup of coffee. Over a month of poring over psychology books had taken its toll. Still, it was necessary; the difficulty of the entrance exam for the psych department at Gotham State was the stuff of legends.

She tried to take a break and check her e-mail. Lots of invites to parties; some of them sounding really schway. She turned them all down. Memories of Chelsea were still too fresh. Besides, she might still be a target, and it's hard to party when you're always looking over your shoulder for a homicidal psychopath obsessed with your boyfriend.

Dana chuckled bitterly when she thought about that term. Her last of experience of him only made the present separation more unbearable. Before she left, they had gone over the rules – stay in public areas with lots of light and people. Stay alert. Above all, no contact.

It was this last rule that hurt the most, especially now that Mary and Matt were in the hospital. Girlfriend? She couldn't even be a friend to him now, to give comfort and consolation in his time of crisis.

Enough, I need some air. Maybe some time in Gotham Park will help me clear me mind, she thought.

As she passed her father, busy as ever on the computer, he lifted his head in interest,

"Where are you going?"

"Just to the park. I need a break from studying"

Her father smiled,

"I'm so proud of you. Ever since you left McGinnis you've been doing so much better"

"Yeah, so much better", she said sadly as she closed the door behind her.

_BB + 1 year, __

Madigan closed the door to his inner sanctum. The walk he took along the pier had done nothing but slow the deep anger he felt. Finally, he let loose, smashing windows, throwing objects in blind rage.

"^&*(! $%^&! ^&*(! ^&**ing ^&*(!"

The swear words rolled off his tongue as frequently as he threw anything that wasn't nailed down. For half an hour, he fed his anger with verbal and physical violence until there was nothing left to smash.

He put his hands on the sink and stared at himself in the broken mirror, and took stock of what happened. He'd handed Batman to Inque on a silver platter and she failed to deliver. Serves me right for giving the job to a mercenary, he thought. They just don't have the necessary dedication.

So Batman, Terry McGinnis' little helper, was still part of the equation, which made the final lesson all the more difficult to arrange. Should I abandon the mission? That would be the easiest thing to do. Wait a few more months until the heat dies down, and then disappear. With over 40 million credits left, it would be child's play.

No, no. Terry was the key, not Batman. Stay focused, remember the mission. Failure is not an option. The second lesson was a success, in spite of Inque's screw-up. All I need is to arrange one more, and everything will fall into place. Terry will see the light, or the dark in this case. It will all make sense again.

Reinforced in his determination, he cleaned up the room until it seemed nothing had happened. Then he sat down to prepare the final lesson, the subject of which was now strolling through Gotham Park and visible by security camera. A smile came back to his face.

"Hello, there, Ms. Tan"

PART VII: The Killer Instinct

Chapter 12: The Sum of All Fears

_BB + 1 year, McGinnis Home_

Terry got out of the elevator, dripping water all over the floor. He was soaked to the bone, a victim of the storm outside. It had been raining non-stop for almost a week, and there was no end in sight. He couldn't think of a more fitting description of the Northside Butcher case.

He got out his keys, his hands shaking as he placed them in the lock. Trying to calm down, he laid his head on the door, his hands grasping both sides of the doorpost.

A week and a half of going through Billings' files had turned up nothing of value. All of the places mentioned there as potential hideouts were long abandoned. There was nothing about his psychological make-up or training they didn't already know. It was a complete dead-end.

Terry entered the house and closed the door. It was deathly quiet, not a sound could be heard save the rain outside.

_"An empty house. Your worst nightmare…"_

_Terry turned to Warren, standing at the window._

_"Yeah…it's almost like what your apartment was like after…"_

_Terry breathed deeply, summoning the courage to ask him,_

_"Dad…why…did you let me leave?"_

_Warren looked at his son directly, those warm eyes flowing with compassion,_

_"I had to protect you. It's what fathers do."_

_"But I could have…"_

_"Stop right there, Terry. I know what you're going to say and I'm telling you there's nothing you could have done. Stop thinking like Terry McGinnis and start thinking like Batman. You know that I'm telling the truth"_

_"But I should have been there for you…"_

_"Which is precisely why I had to make the decision for you. If you'd stayed, we'd have both been killed. You need to forgive yourself, Terry. You need to let go"_

_"I don't know if I can…", Terry said, tears flowing from his eyes._

_Warren approached his son and laid his hand on his shoulder,_

_"Sometimes, we need to make hard choices for the people we care about. I had to make one that day. It was __**my**__ decision, Terry, and you need to accept that."_

_Terry still seemed uncertain, like the time he struggled with his homework only a million times worse. Warren smiled and placed his other hand on Terry's shoulder,_

_"I never got a chance to tell you this when I was alive, but I was always proud of you. I never knew anyone so deeply compassionate and selfless as you were and still are. I __**know**__ that when the time comes, you'll be able to make that leap."_

_Terry held onto one of his father's hands, hoping to God he was right._

_BB + 1 year, Tan House_

Dana's father was hard at work on the specs for a major engineering project when he heard his daughter come down the stairs.

"Going to the library again?"

"Yeah, I need a place to study outside of the house"

He smiled.

"OK. Say, have you heard from Chelsea's father lately? I've been trying to reach him for days, to talk about Chelsea, but he won't return any of my calls. I'm starting to get worried."

"No. I haven't seen him since the funeral"

"Allright, honey. See you later. Drive safe."

He went back to his work, sipping tea and eating chicken. A few minutes later, he heard a noise that sounded like it came from outside. Looking out the window, he saw what looked like a Jokerz gang member smashing the lawn chairs in the backyard.

Grabbing his golf club, he opened the door and went into the back yard.

"God damn punk! You think you can just come here and destroy other people's property?"

The Jokerz member looked up from the wreckage, revealing the face of Gotham's Most Wanted Killer,

"Actually…"

Before he could react, Madigan moved in and shocked him with a high-powered taser. He whispered in his ear,

"I'm here to kill your daughter"

Madigan dragged his prey back inside and sat him back on the chair near the computer. He sampled some of the chicken, licking his fingers,

"Not bad. A little undercooked, though"

Wiping off the Jokerz makeup with a rag, he surveyed the house.

"Nice library…Sun Tzu. You know, my father made me memorize that book. Let's see here…Literature. Engineering. Philosophy. You've got quite a selection here"

After sampling some of the books, he sat down on the couch to watch some television, all the while keeping an eye on the GPS locator in Dana's phone. When it started moving away from the library, he turned off the TV and took out his phone.

Show time.

_BB + 1 year, McGinnis Home_

Terry was in the middle of cleaning the kitchen when he heard the phone ring. Please, God, let it be Bruce, or the police. He saw the caller ID. Chelsea & Mary & Matt, with a big smiley face in the background. Holding the phone tightly, he tried to ignore the call as long as possible. Finally, he forced himself to hit the trace button and accept it.

"Hey, Terry, I was afraid something happened to you. How are you? How's the family?"

"Still alive, no thanks to you", he growled.

"I'm glad to hear it. They didn't need to die for you to get the message"

"Which is what? That you're a sick psychopath?"

Madigan smiled at the compliment,

"No, Terry, that you can't protect them. That your whole little crusade with Batman is entirely pointless. Speaking of which, has he managed to visit every one of my old stomping grounds yet? Dr. Billings and I drew up quite a list"

"How did you know?", Terry said, his throat hoarse.

"My Dad taught me to always assume that anyone you associate with will eventually betray you. He even showed me his database, the one where he kept all the information on everyone he knew, including all their secrets. All so he could stab them in the back if they looked at him funny. Sick, huh?"

"Not as sick as killing him, Mad Dog. How could you murder your own father?"

Madigan smiled even wider,

"I only did what you've always wanted to do all those years. What you're probably thinking of doing to your 'boss' right now"

"What are you talking about?"

"People like him, Terry, like my father, they don't care about guys like us. They don't think we're worth anything. All they care about is their G-d damn legacies. I'll bet Wayne has probably never even let you wear the Batsuit"

Terry grinned,

"How do you know he hasn't?"

"Like I said, I know guys like him. They never think we're good enough. People like them, they hold us back from fulfilling our true potential, our destiny"

"What's tha…"

Just then, Madigan saw Dana's car pull up.

"Listen, Terry, I'd love to continue this conversation, but I have to attend to a guest who's just arrived. We'll be in touch"

Madigan disabled the earpiece, but left the microphone on speaker so Terry could hear.

"What guest? Madigan!"

Terry listened carefully as he heard a door open,

"Dad! I'm back!"

"Oh, my God! Dana! Get out of there!"

He heard her cry of pain, heard Mad Dog stand over her, smiling triumphantly,

"Hello, there, Ms. Tan"

Terry called the Batmobile, suiting up inside. Jumping out as soon as he got within range of the house, he broke down the front door. Dana's father was still out cold, and after checking that he was OK, he looked in vain for Dana.

All he found was a note, written on Midtown Juvenile Hall stationery,

**Hi,**

**There's been a change of venue for our final lesson. Pier 49. 8:00 PM. Tomorrow. Come alone, and I'll give you directions from there. Any bats or sirens, and she dies. You know I'm watching.**

**See you soon,**

**Mad Dog J**

He crumpled the note with all his strength, silently begging for the nightmare to end. "No…No, please, no"

Terry slowly walked outside, note in hand, looking at the empty streets, rain-drenched streets. The sheets of rain beat away at him, sapping his strength, crushing him through sheer attrition. Everything he hoped for, everything he was, seemed ready to be swept away by the unforgiving torrent.

Well, folks, this is it, the moment you've all been waiting for. When I first started this fanfic over a year and a half ago, I had no idea how long it would take or how big it would be. Almost 250 Word pages and over 8,000 views later, I stand amazed at how much this project has developed and grown.

My purpose has always been the same: to convincingly demonstrate that Terry McGinnis is a fascinating, well-rounded character, and more importantly – a hero in his own right. He has his own world, family, friends, his own strengths and weaknesses. The demons he must combat are his alone. He is no-one's appendage. I can only hope that DC Comics succeeds in doing right by him in the coming projects.

I could not have possibly made it this far without the assistance, encouragement and constructive criticism of the members of this board. Special mention goes out to The New Catwoman for her guidance and encouragement from the very beginning. Of course, I would be remiss if I did not mention the many who stayed on and offered comments and support such as Theking, klammed, SilentBat18, as well as the many lurkers who watched Terry's struggles from the background. A hearty thanks to you all.

To those who are interested in the sources of inspiration for the Killer Instinct story (aside from the DCAU of course), they are as follows: Max Payne (the video game, NOT the movie), Dexter, In the Line of Fire, The Dark Knight.

PART VII: The Killer Instinct

Chapter 13: The Final Exam

_BB + 1 year, _, Gotham City_

Dana Tan finally woke up, her entire body aching. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the powerful florescent lighting, pain and exhaustion causing occasional spots and flashes of white in front of her eyes. Reality was setting in.

She was clamped down onto some kind of metal table in a windowless room. Pictures of Chelsea, Mary and Matt McGinnis crossed out in red covered the walls. Her picture was blown up right in front of her, a big red X crossing her face. Dana's breathing increased in rapidity, but she dared not make a sound.

Moving her gaze across the room, she spotted Madigan, sitting at a desk across the room and tinkering with a black object. Damn it - he found it, she thought, swallowing hard.

Madigan smiled and, without changing his focus, addressed his captive,

"You know, I heard about these Bat-tracers, but I never actually saw one. It's an impressive piece of technology; it almost fooled my frequency scanner. Oh, and uh…nice touch putting it in the heel of the boot"

He looked at her with a smile that sent chills down her spine. She summoned up the courage to speak,

"How…how did you know…"

His smile became even wider,

"About Batman and Terry? I didn't, not for sure. Not at first, anyway. But I knew, I just **knew** there had to be a connection between Terry's Dad dying and Batman coming back. It couldn't be a coincidence, not with someone like Terry.

But it was later…it was later when I called him after I disposed of Chelsea, that I knew there really was a connection. The tracing signal…it was too advanced for law enforcement – it had to be something else. It **had** to be Batman. But if he was working with Batman, that meant Bruce Wayne had to be involved. I mean, you need a lot of money to have vehicles and equipment like that, and Terry didn't associate with anyone else that had that kind of dough.

So I read up on Wayne and wouldn't you know it – his parents were blown away in front of him when he was eight years old. I would have loved to have seen the look on his face when **that** happened"

His eyes sparkled at the thought of such a fascinating sight, a fascination that increased in direct proportion to Dana's horror.

"It wasn't hard to put two and two together after that. Somehow, Bruce Wayne was always nowhere to be seen when Batman was around and vice versa. Somehow, the kids who he took in as 'wards' looked suspiciously similar to Robin. To tell you the truth, I'm surprised no-one else figured it out."

His smile and bemusement suddenly faded, his breathing increased in tempo. His hand clenched into a closed fist, another grasping onto a large knife on the desk. With a menacing, hateful look, he went on,

"And now…now he's got **Terry** playing gopher for him on his little crusade. Serving as his 'assistant'. All so he can hog the glory for himself and convince Terry he's actually doing good. Using him just like everyone else used him. Just like **you** used him and threw him away like garbage!"

Madigan got up and stood over her, the knife over his head, ready to strike. The hate in his eyes was all-consuming, an empty pit ready to swallow everything before it. Then he stopped himself, shaking his head and silently muttering, "No, no, no. Not yet. Not like this"

He stabbed the desk with the knife, the sharp blade facing Dana. Looking at her crossed-out image, he continued,

"But it doesn't matter. Tonight, Terry will finally understand the truth. It'll all finally make sense again…it will all make sense again…"

He left the room, and Dana breathed a sigh of relief. Slowly, she reflected on her situation and on her tormenter, her lover's tormentor.

I know Terry better than you ever will, you son of a bitch. No matter how much you try, he'll never be you. Just you wait and see.

_BB + 1 year, Gotham Midtown Cemetery, 3 hours until the deadline_

The clouds banished all light from the heavens, as the raging torrent continued to overwhelm Gotham City. Terry stood tall, resisting all the attempts to be taken by the flood. He looked straight at the grave of the kid who started it all, setting off the chain reaction that brought him to where he was today. Tom Brady. A kid he'd never met and would never see again.

_"I remember how upset you were when you heard the news about him. That was when I started to understand what you'd gone through down there"_

_Terry turned to Warren, standing beside him. Warren looked back and continued,_

_"I know what you're thinking. Was it worth it? Should I have even started on this path?"_

_Terry nodded slightly. Warren put his hand on Terry's shoulder,_

_"The only one who knows the answer to that is you. Look deep, and ask yourself – now that you know what happens afterward; what might happen tonight, would you still do it all again?"_

_Terry closed his eyes tightly. He let his memory banks flow open, a flood of images and voices more powerful than anything he'd ever experienced._

_Help….me…you're a bad influence…you're better off being one of us…Have you ever looked in the eyes of people you know are going to be horribly murdered the minute you leave, and there's nothing you can do about it?...You're still the same punk I picked up from Juvie…I promised, no I swore I would never let it happen again…You had no right!...Somebody had to something!...Stupid kid, you don't know what you want…It's not Batman that makes you worthwhile, it's the other way around. Never tell yourself anything different… Somebody had to do something!...help…me…_

_The floodgates slammed shut. He raised his head and faced his father. The look in his eyes bespoke a powerful, unconquerable determination. There was no need to give a verbal answer; it was written all over his face._

_Warren returned the favor,_

_"Then you know what you have to do"_

_BB + 1 year, Batcave, 1 hour until the deadline_

Bruce sat at the Batcomputer, hoping to figure out a lead on Madigan's whereabouts. Something, anything that could prevent Terry from having to make a terrible choice. He turned to Ace,

"I wonder where he is now…"

The dane started barking, and Bruce looked up. Terry was descending the stairs, dripping wet.

"Come to get the suit?"

"No", he said as he passed the armor, still in its case, "I just came to pick up some equipment"

"Terry…"

"The camo mode doesn't last anywhere near long enough to get through the maze at the docks. If I knew where to look, it would be one thing, but I don't." He said as he placed the Batarang devices on his arms, "We're out of leads and we're out of time. I don't have any other choice. It's his game now."

Bruce got up to his full height and approached Terry. Standing near him like a scolding teacher, he reproached him,

"You **know** you're going into a trap!"

Terry didn't budge.

"It's like you said" he replied, the Batarangs clicking into place. "Sometimes you have to"

"**I** said that?", Bruce said as he raised a brow.

Terry's face convulsed.

"Besides" he said as he put on his coat "He's expecting Terry McGinnis. He'll get more than he bargained for"

Bruce wasn't sure what to say; it was clear Terry had made up his mind and wouldn't change it. Damn it, he was stubborn.

"If I don't make it back, tell Mom…" he closed his eyes, and then re-opened them with a determined look in his eye, "Tell her it was my decision"

Bruce and Terry's eyes locked, and they communicated as Batmen. Bruce understood. He never stopped being amazed at how much he truly was like him…softening his demeanor, he walked up to Terry and placed his hand on his partner's shoulder. The look in his eyes, like Warren before him, was one of immense pride. Then, without a hint of irony or hesitation, he said,

"Good luck. **Batman**"

Terry now felt completely secure in his mission. He nodded slightly in acknowledgement, and ascended the staircase.

Bruce watched him leave, and then looked at Ace after he disappeared.

"Let's hope we never have to give Mary that message."

It was simply unnatural for parents to bury their children.

_BB + 1 year, Pier 49 entrance_

Terry arrived a few minutes early. At 8:00 sharp a small robot appeared, equipped with a retinal scanner. Terry obliged. The robot opened up a small compartment with a piece of paper inside.

**Go to the edge of the old dockyard on foot. Warehouse 35.**

Terry took the trek, paying attention to each and every detail around him. He would need to mind his surroundings carefully if he was going to make it out of this , he arrived at his destination.

He entered the dimply lit warehouse, moving slowly to take everything in. Suddenly, the lights went on, the door shut and there was Dana – clamped to a table in the middle of the building, surrounded by explosives powerful enough to destroy the building three times over. Madigan was standing on a higher ledge, remote control in hand, a triumphant smile on his face.

"Welcome, Terry. Class is now in session"

PART VII: The Killer Instinct

Chapter 14: Absolution

_BB + 1 year, Warehouse 35, Gotham Dockyards_

Terry walked slowly towards the center of the building, carefully taking everything in. It was hard to resist the urge to rush over to Dana, hug her and tell her how everything's going to be OK. He wanted to tell her how much he loved her. But if they were going to make it out alive, he would have to suspend those feelings. Like his father said – stop thinking like Terry McGinnis and start thinking like Batman.

There were four…no six remote triggers for the bombs, all placed on the walls and far from his direct reach. Exits…the main doors were electronically sealed, but the emergency exit on the left was sealed with a heavy chain. That left what was holding down Dana – he didn't see any locks, which meant some sort of device underneath that opened the manacles. Here's hoping it's a manual one.

That left the final, unpredictable variable – Mad Dog standing on the gangplank above and holding the remote trigger. Like Bruce often told him - the human element is the trickiest part because it can't be precisely calculated. His muscles tensed as he braced himself for the gauntlet. One miss and they're all dead. Here's hoping that training actually worked…

As he reached Dana's side, Madigan pressed the remote and the entire wall was illuminated with a projector's glare. He began his narration,

"Terry McGinnis, **this** is your life"

A picture of Mom appeared, a reminder of happier times,

"A mother's love is **supposed** to be unconditional…unless it means you pulled some high-school stunts and did a stint in Juvie. Then she disowns you like yesterday's garbage and takes away your brother to boot…Which bring us to dear old Dad"

A picture of Warren and Terry from Wolf Mountain appeared. Terry's face convulsed in pain.

"A coward in every way, who did everything he could to ensure you ended up like him, even yelling at you for trying to stop people like me…In the end he died as he lived, a frightened ostrich murdered in his own fortress"

The rage Terry felt increased as he saw the crime scene photo of his father, and it took every inch of strength he had to hold back.

"Ahh, but here's where it gets interesting" he said as he changed the picture, "Your boss, Bruce Wayne, or as you know him - Batman. Parents killed at age eight, dedicated his life to fighting crime, all in the pointless hope of bringing his parents back. Along the way, he picks up 'assistants', Robins and Batgirls, whom he endangers in his little crusade. Then, all of a sudden, he disappears for two decades…that is, until you show up – another sucker punk kid who thinks he's doing 'good' but really all you are is helping him perpetuate his sick little fantasy"

Terry didn't budge or change his expression and remained focused on the screen, but it was becoming more and more difficult to stay restrained. His hands clenched so tightly, he could crush steel. This $%^&ing slide-show better be over quick…

"Which brings us to our present subject, Dana Tan. Oh, sure, she showed some sympathy when you first left Juvie, but that ended quickly, didn't it? Hell, even your father's death didn't stop her from whining for months about how little attention you give **her**. Did she ever once ask you what it was like to hold him, dead and bloodied in your arms? I don't think so…"

He shut off the projector and Terry turned to his tormentor,

"This little speech have a point?"

Madigan smiled,

"It's simple. You've been avoiding fulfilling your potential because deep down you still care deeply about all of them. Hell, you were even willing to come tonight to try and save Dana. Why? They don't give a ^&* about you, Terry. Do you seriously think any of them would ever risk their life for you like you have tonight? It's like I told you back in Juvie – nobody cares about anyone else."

Terry smirked inside, knowing how not a single word of it was true. Still, gotta keep playing along,

"And how exactly do I fulfill my potential?"

Madigan motioned to the table in front of Dana's, "I left you a present. Open it"

Terry approached the gift box and removed the cover. Inside was a 100lb weight. It looked exactly like the one…

_"I knew you had potential"_

_"NOOOOOO!"_

"It's time to end it, Terry. Death - it's the only way you'll truly be free of all these leeches"

"If you're so sure, why the explosives?"

"If even this lesson doesn't convince, then I'd rather see you die than abandon your mission"

Terry narrowed his focus, and then lifted the weight and moved into position. Dana saw the look in his eyes. No, you wouldn't…

Suddenly, Terry dropped the weight and bent down to pick it up. Looking underneath the table, he saw the device controlling the restraints. It's mechanical, all right, he though as he breathed a sigh of relief.

He got up and he kissed her on the cheek as if to part ways. Very quietly, he spoke, his face away from Madigan's field of vision,

"Get ready to run out the door to your right. Turn left and run straight until you reach the cop phone"

Dana braced herself, but was confused. How…?

Madigan, frustrated that Terry had not yet lifted the weight, tried some tough love, "There's no point in resisting, Terry. There's no-one here to save you – not Batman, not your Mom or Dad. No guards at Juvie to break us up. You've got no other choice. It's over"

Terry looked up to the wall and slowed everything down, the entire world becoming crystal clear as he moved his finger to the devices on his arms…

"No. Not exactly…"

Suddenly, Terry sliced Madigan's shoulder with a Batarang, forcing him to fling the remote in pain. The second broke the chain to the emergency exit. A second later, two more flung out in opposite directions, taking out the bomb's remote triggers. A second later, another two. And another two. Then Terry opened Dana's restraints,

"RUN!"

Dana fled as fast as she could as Terry began climbing the stairs to get to the Mad Dog, who was still fervently pressing the detonate button, seconds too late.

"No, no, NOOOOO!"

With Terry in hot pursuit, he jumped out the glass window, landing on a garbage dump and continuing to flee. Terry followed suit, getting a glimpse of his prey going in the opposite direction of the GCPD phone.

His blood was up, his adrenaline pumping like mad. You're on **my **turf, now, Billy.

The hunt was on.

Dana ran like crazy, barely able to breathe as she kept running and running with no cop phone in sight. She became increasingly desperate as the monotonous buildings never seemed to change. She stopped for a breather and then started again, determined to get away from the nightmare.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, she found it. Rushing deliriously to her salvation, she picked up the receiver, still gasping for air. Every ring seemed like an eternity.

"Pick up, God damn it!"

Gordon and Roland were sitting in her office, waiting for any news on McGinnis or Tan, but for hours there was just dead silence, punctured by routine calls and administration issues. Then a call came from dispatch. An emergency call from Dana Tan. Terry. The Mad Dog.

It was all she needed.

"This is Commissioner Gordon. This is a Level 1 emergency. All available units to the Old Gotham Dockyard in pursuit of the Northside Butcher. Repeat, all available units to the Old Gotham Dockyard. This is a Level 1 emergency"

"Roger, dispatch. Emergency, all units, emergency, in pursuit of suspect…"

Gordon hung up the phone and saw that Roland was already on his way. As he rushed into a squad car all he could think was,

"Damn it, don't die on me, McGinnis"

Two other people listened in on the police band and headed to the Dockyard. One shared Roland's sentiments. The other had different motives.

Terry and Madigan hunted for each other among the abandoned buildings. Experienced predators both, they combined caution and speed in pursuit of their quarry, scouting and listening for the slightest sign of human life among the dead monuments of stone and brick and the raging torrent above.

Terry often felt sure that the Mad Dog was just nearby, but every time, he turned a corner, he was gone. They could do this all night, this place was such a maze. No way I'm letting you get away this time, Billy. I'll just have to draw you out.

"Hey, Billy, how's your bowling arm?" He yelled into the void. It responded,

"So Bruce gave you some of his Batarangs so you could play at being him, huh?"

Terry laughed out loud, "You still haven't figured it out have you? Let me spell it for you, then. I **am** the Batman, and it's all thanks to you!"

"I'm sure Bruce wouldn't appreciate you using his name!"

Terry spoke even louder, his voice dripping with sarcasm and contempt, "I never needed his permission. When I got there, he'd all but given up. I was the one who stole the suit from him! You should have seen the look on his face"

"NO, NO!"

"You know, I was wondering why you never put two and two together, and then it hit me, you don't want to admit the truth. So here it is: You wanna know what really held me back all this time? It was **you**. The thought of becoming you made me sick to my stomach and still does, but now I've changed my mind"

"What are you talking about?" He asked, desperately trying to zero in on the taunting voice in the void.

"Don't self yourself short, Madigan. You're a hero. They shouldn't send you to jail, they should give you a civil service medal!" "WHERE ARE YOU?" "For everyone you've killed, I've saved at least ten thousand" "WHERE ARE YOUUUU?" "I can just imagine your acceptance speech, too. Before I met Terry, Gotham was a criminal's playground, and now, thanks to me, over 1500 Jokerz are rotting in jail because I pissed off the wrong guy in Juvie! It'll be a hoot! Hahahaha"

Rage now boiled over Madigan as he came closer and closer to Terry, knife drawn, determined more than ever now to fulfill his promise to Terry if he abandoned his mission.

Dana waited near the GCPD phone, nervously checking every direction every few seconds to make sure Madigan wasn't nearby. Sirens were wailing loudly and coming closer, and she felt more relieved. Overhead a car flew by – it looked like Chelsea's car…

She turned around to suddenly see a large man in front of her and instinctively screamed. He tried to calm her,

"Easy, easy, I'm Detective Frank Roland" he said as he showed her his badge, "We're surrounding the area. It's going to be all right. Could you tell me where they're headed?"

Dana caught her breath, looked back at the maze then back at Roland,

"Well" she said, still breathing heavily, I ran in this direction, so they must have gone that way, as she pointed towards the warehouses. "But Chelsea…I…"

"What about Chelsea? Dana, what about her?"

"I thought…I…saw her car…going to the docks"

Something clicked in Roland's head, a terrible realization that solved his case but could spell disaster.

"Oh, my God…All right, you stay here and wait for the uniforms" he said as he ran towards the maze, "This is Detective Frank Roland, I need units in the air **now** looking for the following suspects and for a white Chevy '19 classic. **No-one** opens fire without my authorization!"

Dana stood there, pondering his instructions. Madigan's hurtful taunt rang in her ears,

"You think any of **them** would risk **their** life for you?"

She ran into the maze, a feeling of determination stronger than she'd ever felt before running through her. You're damned straight I would.

"You hear those sirens? It's over, Billy"

Madigan heard the taunt just as he spotted a glimpse Terry's jacket at the corner of a building next to the water. He smile as he got into position, knife ready, "Goodbye, Terry"

He ran at full speed, stabbing before Terry could react – except all he stabbed was a jacket, held up by a stray piece of metal.

"What the…"

Just then, he saw Terry get the drop on him, kicking the knife away and pummeling him repeatedly in the body and face, his bones cracking from the force of the blows,

"Three…*&^%ing…years!" he said as he knocked Madigan to the ground, bleeding and broken. Terry caught his breath, satisfied and jubilant.

Suddenly, Mad Dog tried for another low lunge, this time with the taser, but Terry caught it in time. Falling back on the ground, he double-kicked Mad Dog in the head, knocking him back and over the side of the dock. His good hand was the only thing keeping him from being swept away.

Terry walked towards him and appeared over his head, the very visage of the Angel of Death. It would be so easy. He wouldn't even have to do anything – just walk away and let nature take its course. With his injuries, he'd never make it out alive. No-one would know…His eyes closed and his hands clenched tightly, deep in thought, while Madigan secretly hoped he'd accepted his mission after all…

Suddenly, Terry grabbed on Madigan's good arm with both of his and began to pull him up.

"You don't really want to save me, Terry, do you?"

"No" he said tersely.

"Then why…"

"You made a choice. In Juvie, so did I"

"You really are him…"

Just as he was about to get him all the way up, a strange voice appeared in the void,

"I should have known you two were working together. Once a punk, always a punk"

Terry turned around to see Kevin Cunningham pointing a laser pistol at them. Terry, still holding onto Madigan, tried to dissuade him,

"No, this isn't what it looks like"

Madigan took advantage of the situation,

"It's **exactly** what it looks like"

Two shots rang out, piercing through Terry's side. He let go of Madigan and fell off the side. The great storm clouds were the last thing he saw before he hit the water.

Madigan laughed. "Guess I win after all, huh, Terry? Hahahahaha. You have no idea what you've just done, do you, old man? Hahahhahahaha"

Kevin moved over to the wounded killer, picked him up by the scruff of his neck and placed him against the wall.

"Beg"

"Like Chelsea begged? By the way, I don't remember her mentioning your name, but it doesn't matter. Do it"

"Gotham PD! Put that gun down!"

Roland trained his weapon on the hostage-taker, calling off the air-support to prevent more needless death.

"He murdered my daughter…him, and McGinnis and that coward uncle of his…they all had to pay…he killed HER!…"

"And he's going to pay, sir. He'll rot for the rest of his natural existence in the Wolf Mountain Ultra…"

"NOT GOOD ENOUGH!"

"Sir, put the gun down…"

Kevin looked up at the sky, the regret of having failed to protect Chelsea running through him and wishing she'd forgive him. Looking at Madigan, he now knew how to receive absolution. It was the only way.

He fired into Madigan's head, and then he aimed it at Roland; the better to receive just punishment for his crime. Roland pulled the trigger as if possessed, his brain doing what his heart could not. It took two, maybe three seconds, but he would never forget what happened this day.

He walked slowly across the dark, bloodied yard; a flash of lightning telling him what he already knew. They were both dead; the gunshot wounds told the story. He lowered his gun and released his finger from the trigger. He mourned the victims and hoped they would be the last.

Dana suddenly appeared from behind a container, having watched the whole stand-off with horror. She approached Roland,

"He…he said he killed Terry…"

Roland, rather than reprimand her, asked an approaching officer if they'd found Terry,

"No, sir, but it's going to take a while to go through here. The kid's probably dead, anyway"

Furious, he grabbed the cop and put his gun to his head,

"You listen to me…**Officer** **Williams**" he growled as he looked at his name tag, "you and everyone else here will go through every square inch of this compound on the assumption he's alive if it takes the whole night and half the department. If I find out he died from his wounds because you were too lazy to look, I will **personally** blow you away in the most painful way possible. DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?"

"Y-yes, sir" he said as he ran away.

Dana looked around for any sign of Terry and soon came upon his jacket. He must have fallen into the water…Looking out at the edge, she thought she caught a glimpse of him several feet away among the passing police lights. Instinctively, she dove in,

"I'm coming, Terry! Hang on"

Roland cursed to himself as he called in search and rescue teams to help them. Hang in there, Terry.

He finally managed to reach the surface of the water after the initial shock, pain coursing through every part of his body. The heavens seemed to go all white every few seconds as he struggled to stay afloat. At first he thought it was the pain, but then he saw a bright, constant white light in front of him, his father beckoning him to grab his hand and bring him home…

_Death…it's the only way you can be free…_

_"Give me your hand, Terry. She's safe, now, it's OK."_

_Terry held on, but he wasn't sure whether to extend his other arm and seal the deal._

_"Terry, I forgive you"_

_"Terry…hang on…"_

_He heard Dana's voice in the distance, and remembered his mission. It wasn't his time yet._

_With tears in his eyes, he said,_

_"Dad, I have to go…"_

_Warren smiled warmly, if sadly,_

_"I know, son"_

_He let go of his father as he retreated into the light._

_"Goodbye, son…"_

"Goodbye…"

"No, Terry, come back! Terry!"

Dana had finally made it to him, holding him up as best she could, and trying to prevent him from sinking further.

Suddenly, the Batmobile appeared and lowered down on their location, having picked up the coordinates from Roland's distress call. They were both put in the car, and he drove to safety. Roland stood watching, silently saying "Thank, God"

Then the skies started to abate, the storm began to lift as if the chaos had now ended and a decision rendered by the heavens. The verdicts were delivered – in favor of some, in prejudice of others. There would be no appeals.

Until next time.

PART VII: The Killer Instinct

Chapter 15: When All is Said and Done

_BB + 1 year, Batcave_

Terry lay asleep on his sickbed. The only sounds he made were via the multitude of advanced medical monitors at his side. They sung a regular tune now, a sharp contrast to the cacophony that took place just hours ago. He was finally out of the danger zone.

Bruce walked down the stairs to the cave, carrying a tray of tea for himself and the other present inhabitant of the cave. Dana Tan was sitting vigil at Terry's side, a blanket covering her at all times. All attempts to get her to vacate the cold premises to the warm abode above resulted in complete failure. No wonder Terry likes her.

Bruce lay down the tray on a small table he'd brought down. Dana turned her attention directly to Bruce, not to the refreshments,

"Will he make it?"

Bruce looked worryingly at the monitors and breathed a confident sigh of relief. The answer was affirmative. It might take a few days before he went back out on patrol, though. He returned his steely gaze to Dana,

"He'll live. How will you be?"

Dana wasn't sure how to react. Like he really cares. She shrugged,

"Sure, nothing five lifetimes worth of therapy can't handle"

"I'm serious…"

Dana was shocked to hear a tinge of deep concern underneath the hard baritone voice. Before she might have brushed it off, but knowing what she did about his trauma, she probed. Looking hard into his eyes, she saw that deep beneath that powerful armor lay a sensitive, almost childlike heart. A traumatized heart, but a heart, nonetheless. He really **did** care.

"I'll manage"

Bruce, unsatisfied with her response, sat down opposite her. Yet, what was he supposed to say? It was easy enough when women attached themselves to **him**. The standard darkness and cold shoulder song-and-dance usually sufficed. Even the more persistent ones like Selina eventually gave up.

But this was **Terry's** girlfriend. Did he even have the right to intervene? But how could he let her live such a horrible, uncertain life…Suddenly, Dana interrupted his train of thought,

"I know what you're thinking, and the answer is no. I'm not leaving him"

How did she…? Caught so suddenly, he blurted out,

"Even after this?"

"**Especially** after this. I don't expect you to understand…."

Bruce didn't know what to say. Yet instead of trying to dissuade her, a strange sense came flowed through him. It was a feeling he'd long desired to express, one which he always suppressed when he donned the cowl. I **want** to understand.

"Try me"

Dana steeled herself, and faced Bruce, the emotion running through her veins causing her to shake even harder than the cold water had done,

"Everything Madigan said in that warehouse was true. I took everyone in my life for granted – Chelsea, my dad and especially Terry. I spent all my time complaining about not getting enough attention and never stopped to think what he was going through, what it was like to see his father beaten to death.

After Chelsea died, I realized that you can never really take the people you care about for granted. That you've got to appreciate every moment you have with them, because you never know when they'll be gone. You've got to hold on to them, no matter what. If that means risking my life, then so be it, because after tonight I know he'd do the same for me in a heartbeat. **That's** what it means to really care about someone."

Bruce stood and absorbed what she said. It made no sense. He was the night. He'd braved the worst the world had to offer, was immune to any appeal to emotion, even from his colleagues in the JL. Yet here was this teenager, this neophyte, sitting here and shattering his armor with every word of her jejune speech. You've gone soft, old man…

Dana moved her arms from the embrace of the blanket and sampled some of Bruce's brew,

"Mmmmm…this is delicious! Family recipe?"

Bruce reeled from the seemingly innocuous statement. Exposed, he answered,

"No…a friend…someone who" he closed his eyes and reopened them "someone who held on to me, no matter what".

His throat was making it difficult for words to come out. Should tell Doctor Macy about this, damned fool must have prescribed something with bad side effects…

"He must have been a very special person", Dana said in a conciliatory tone.

Bruce smiled, a sad look of loss quickly replaced by the comfort of the fond memories of his surrogate father,

"He was…He was…"

_BB + 1 year, The Waterfront Bar_

Frank Roland downed his beer in one go, the third one so far. If the past couple of days were any indication, he'd finish thirty before the night was up. Raising his head to order another round, he saw Commissioner Gordon staring down at him, a look of deep disapproval on her face,

"Mind explaining this?" She said as she took out his badge "I found it on my desk this afternoon along with your gun"

Roland looked with contempt, "I thought it was self-explanatory"

Barbara was incensed,

"Outside. Now."

The power of her order overwhelmed his defenses. He obeyed. Soon they were standing at the edge of the waterline, the serene calm a powerful counterpoint to last week's events. Barbara looked straight at him,

"Well?"

Roland looked at the horizon, breathed deeply, and began his confession,

"I've been a detective for four years, two on homicide. I never once had to use that gun. Until last week. If it had been Madigan, I'd sleep like a baby, but this…I killed an innocent man, Commissioner…"

"He wasn't innocent. The board of rights cleared you. It as a clean shoot"

"Just because it was regulation doesn't make it 'clean'"

"You had no other choice. There was nothing else you could have done"

Roland, staring into space, now focused directly on Barbara, an accusative look in his eyes,

"That's not true. That's not even close to the truth"

"What are you talking about?"

"After last week, I started going over the files again. On a hunch, I read through the police report on Terry's dad's death. A pure work of fiction, beginning to end. A five-year-old with half a brain would have seen that something wasn't right about that case. But it was written off as a standard robbery-homicide, anyway, because who cares about some low-rent scientist in the Gotham badlands?"

Barbara was about to object, but Roland pre-empted,

"He's not the only one. I found dozens of cases just like his in the cold case archive. It probably goes into the hundreds. Cases that could have been solved if anyone had cared enough to try a little harder. You really think we did all we could? Tell me straight, Commish, how many more Kevin Cunninghams are out there because we were too busy elsewhere?"

Barbara's face hardened. She wanted to fight back, but she could see that the pain in his face was palpable. Better not to rub salt on the wounds. He looked back at the horizon,

"Hell, I'm as much to blame as anyone. I loved the media spotlight; taking down organized crime, stopping terrorists, hobnobbing with the top brass. Solving only the "big" cases that got lots of press. Now…every time I see his face, I want to beg for forgiveness.

Cause let's face it - this ain't Gramps Harvey's department, anymore. Harvey… he was a real shmuck, but he was damned good cop. He cared. He'd take a bullet for a citizen in a heartbeat…"

He looked at Barbara again, this time with a look of shock,

"I had to pull a gun on an officer last week to get him to do his goddamned job…"

OK, that's enough.

"You finished?"

"Yeah"

"Good" she said as shoved the badge into his hand "because it's a load of ^&*("

"What…?"

"You think quitting is going to make anything any better? This department needs more people like you, Frank, people who care. You want to go back to that bar and wallow the rest of your life in self-pity, then go ahead. You want to save the Kevin Cunninghams of the world? Then sober up and get back to work"

Frank was about to object, but Barbara pre-empted,

"You know, I've been thinking for a while about reviving the Major Crimes Unit my father ran before he became the top dog. Then it was for the big cases no-one would touch, now it could be the other way around, though we may have to call it something else…I could use someone like you at the helm. Someone who'll make sure things don't fall through the cracks…"

Frank's eyes brightened. His breathing became a bit more rapid. Maybe…

"I have conditions"

"Shoot"

"I have final say on who gets in or out of the unit"

"Done"

"When, not if, the politicians start banging down my door, I expect you to have my back"

"Done"

"I have your permission to 'bend the rules' when I have to"

"Don't push it, Frank"

Roland smiled. He looked at his badge and squeezed it tightly,

"You drive a hard bargain, Commissioner"

"Meet me in my office at 8:00 AM sharp; we'll make it official. Shower, shave, suit and tie, the whole nine yards"

Barbara began walking away, then decided to live a final parting thought,

"And who knows? Maybe one day we won't need Batman"

Frank shook his head, turning around,

"We'll always need him"

Barbara smiled coyly and left. Roland placed the badge in his pocket, and fished out the contents of the other one. Eight retracted Batarangs he'd picked up from the secondary crime scene. He could take them to evidence control, have them processed for fingerprints and DNA. Not that he needed the help.

Images came, of Harry, of Cunningham and of a former JD, the true untold hero of the Northside Butcher case, and now of all Gotham. It's going to stay that way.

He threw the Batarangs into the water as far he could, the small drips like music to his ears.

"Go get 'em, Terry"

He sauntered back to the bar, satisfied. I could sure use another drink.

_BB + 15 years, Starlight Restaurant_

Terry walked back into the restaurant. Dana was still at the table, looking as impatient as ever. Terry sat down, and Dana began the interrogation,

"So, what's the story? You have to leave again, or can the world survive without you for another hour?"

"It'll survive. It was just a routine JL call"

Except there was no call. But some things are best left unsaid.

"So, Dana, you were telling me about New Arkham?"

"Well…"

He half-listened to her go on and on about the hospital politics, the difficulties of running an insane asylum, her complaints at the inmates he "sent" her. He wandered off into memory-land, of happier and sadder times. But one moment in particular stood out – the minute and a half they spent holding each other off Pier 50 fourteen years ago…Dana noticed how Terry went daydreaming again, and reverted to her annoyed stance,

"Sorry if this boring you. Most of us don't have a job that involves saving the world and fighting supervillians"

Terry tried to reply, "uh…umm…Sorry"

Dana pushed her advantage,

"You know, we're almost at dessert, and you still haven't asked me"

"A-asked? Asked what?"

"You said on the phone that you were going to ask me something. Don't tell me the Dark Knight is getting forgetful at 31…"

Terry sat there sheepishly, shuffling his feet. Boy, I could use an Apokolyptic invasion right about now…But then the memory came back, and determination set in. His brow lowered, he breathed in and began, hoping practice makes perfect,

"Dana, being a superhero…it carries a price…"

Here we go, she thought, the "Superhero Breaks Up with Girlfriend to Protect Her" speech. It's been almost two weeks since the last one…

"It's a dark and secret burden. Of comrades lost, of futures uncertain, of threats to our family…"

Well, at least we're being poetic…suddenly, Terry dropped to one knee, positioning himself like a knight before royalty. One hand was on each knee. His head lay low, and he raised it slowly, those caring eyes penetrating her soul,

"A heavy cost, we bear it gladly, for the ones we care about…"

Oh, my God…

He took out something from his pocket, his large hand concealing its nature. Cupping it in both his hands, he opened it, revealing a beautiful diamond ring. Dana's eyes were wide open, her jaw dropped from the shock.

"Dana Tan, will you marry me?"

It was just like Waller said – take care of the ones who love you.

In the end, they're all we have.

END: The Killer Instinct


End file.
